


somewhere only we know

by bethaboo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Coming Out, Famous Harry, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Famous Louis, PA Louis, Pining, Popstar Harry, Shower Sex, gratuitous fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:49:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 44,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2763668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethaboo/pseuds/bethaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Personal assistant Louis knows something is up with his best friend and employer Harry. And it's not just his big tour coming up or the ever-increasing womanizing rumors about the popstar. To get to the bottom of Harry's moodiness, Louis decides he has to kidnap him and take him on a roadtrip up the California coast to Portland.</p><p>The roadtrippiest road trip fic ever written. Basically an excuse for gratuitous fluff and smut with a pinch of angst tossed in for good measure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stylesparties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesparties/gifts).



> This was my prompt: road trip. this can be au or canon complaint, i don't have a preference. maybe they go on a road trip as bro/pal/friends and there are a lot of feelings along the way like bros can sleep in the same bed right bros can get drunk and kiss each other right right - friends to lovers kind of thing.
> 
> Well, there is definitely a TON of friends to lovers. I also wanted to work in some Ziall as requested, and even set it up, but as this got longer and longer and even LONGER, I decided I would just focus on Harry and Louis.
> 
> Title is from the amazing Keane song, "Somewhere Only We Know."
> 
> Thanks to the incredible Britta who betaed and got me through this story even as it got ridiculously lengthy, despite not liking bottom!Harry.

_“This could be the end of everything,_

_so why don’t we go somewhere only we know.”_

 

"Zayn," Louis announced cheerfully as he leaned back against the counter, "I've decided. There's no other choice. I'm going to have to kidnap him."

 

Kidnapping was always a chancey proposition, but as it turned out, planning a kidnapping was even tougher when the kidnappee was none other than Harry Styles, singer-songwriter, popstar and currently flaming ball of stardom soaring across the sky.

 

"You're going to do _what_?" Zayn asked, voice wild and incredulous even as his hand remained perfectly steady on the tattoo machine. "Maybe you should wait to tell me about your potential law-breaking til we're you know. . . _alone_." He gestured to the man lying prone on his table, his half-completed tattoo shiny under the bright lights of the studio.

 

The man gave a half-hearted grunt and Louis gave Zayn a big thumb's up. "We're cool, we're cool," Louis rambled, well aware of how high-pitched and manic he sounded. He was going to kidnap _Harry Styles_. Of course, he also _worked_ for Harry Styles and Harry wouldn't press charges--okay, he _probably_ wouldn't press charges. Harry had been quite moody and sad lately, which was very unlike him, so while Louis would normally have believed that his employer and best friend wouldn't send him to jail, it was hard to be sure these days.

 

Louis glanced over at the mirror covering one wall of the studio and gave his fringe a half-hearted swipe. He was really too pretty to go to jail. He resolved to make it the _best kidnapping ever_ , so there was no way Harry would even consider it.

 

"So how are you planning to do this?" Zayn asked, which Louis took as a very good sign. "Like, he'sHarry Styles. I think someone will notice he's not where he's supposed to be."

 

"No faith, Z. No faith. It'll be a total cinch. We have a few weeks break coming up. I'm supposed to get him back to London, and instead of doing that, I'll just take him instead."

 

"You can't just _take_ someone," Zayn insisted, voice strangled. "Harry Styles isn't like some random bag of crisps you can steal."

 

"Oh, I think he's a little better than that." Louis, even when planning a kidnapping, was very loyal. The _most_ loyal, he believed. Which was really why he was doing this at all. Harry needed some fresh air and some space, and he definitely wasn't going to get either of those in London, which had become a more British version of LA lately.

Too many obligations. Too many paparazzi. Too many rumors.

 

The problem was that whenever Louis tried to talk Harry into taking some really fabulous trip during the break, Harry abruptly changed the subject or ignored him completely. Louis didn't believe he was the _most_ important person in Harry's life, but really, who was he kidding? He totally was. So when Harry was able to ignore Louis, who was not only the most important person, but also the loudest and most persistent, that meant things had truly become dire.

 

Zayn shot Louis a reprimanding look over his client's back. "We've talked about this. Being the most protective PA in the history of the entertainment industry isn't a good replacement for expressing the feelings you have for Harry."

 

Louis gave Zayn a defiant glare. "I don't know what you're talking about."

 

Sighing, Zayn returned to his tattoo. "Yes, you do. Now you're just being difficult."

 

"Of course I care about him," Louis argued. "That's why I'm going to kidnap him. He needs help, he's just too stubborn to admit it."

 

"What about being too stubborn to admit you love him?" Zayn asked softly, lifting his head.

 

Louis sniffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "He's one of my best friends. He hired me when I needed a job. He pays me way more than he should. Of course I love him."

 

"Lou, I know you're worried about Harry. But I'm worried about you." Zayn didn't even look up from his tattoo, but he didn't have to for Louis to envision the concerned wrinkle between his dark eyebrows. He and Zayn had known each other for nearly their entire lives, and it was a testament to how strong their friendship was that when Louis had done the crazy, unthinkable thing and moved to Los Angeles with his ex-boyfriend Aidan, Zayn had eventually followed him.

 

"Me?" Louis demanded. "I'm amazing. Better than ever, actually." It was a lie; he couldn't possibly be amazing, not when Harry was so clearly not amazing.

 

"You show up here, announcing you're going to kidnap Harry Styles. I think that's pretty self-explanatory."

 

"Yeah," the man getting Zayn's art tattooed on his back said. "You're nuts. He's Harry freaking Styles. I think he's gonna be missed by _someone_."

 

Louis didn't say it, but the person missing Harry Styles--the _real_ Harry Styles; the goofy, silly, sweet-smiling boy who'd practically saved his life two years ago--wasn't going to be his manager or his publicist or even all the obsessed fangirls, it was him.

 

Harry might be mad at first, but Louis was convinced he’d have to be grateful in the end.

 

\-----

 

Louis let himself into Harry's LA flat with one of the keys on the loaded key ring dangling from his finger. It was quiet and neat, per usual, though Louis frowned at the absolute lack of noise. Harry knew he was going to need to be up and getting ready by now, prepping for a photo shoot this afternoon.

 

"Harry?" Louis called out into the stillness of the flat. Two years ago, when he'd gotten the job working for Harry, he hadn't had a place to live, his bank account had dwindled down to his last few dollars, and so Harry had offered Louis the extra bedroom in his flat.

 

Louis had assumed at the time it would be a fairly temporary solution, at least until his own poor financial choices stopped biting him in the ass, but their co-habitation had turned out not only to be convenient, but wonderful on a whole different level. Neither Louis nor Harry had had a single friend in LA and they'd ended up spending all their time together. The simple business arrangement had morphed into a close friendship, and Louis had discovered that he loved living with Harry. Then, six months ago, Harry's management had decided it would be better for Harry's image if he wasn't living with his personal assistant.

 

Management had sweetened the incentive to move out by offering to pay for a flat in the same complex as Harry's. It wasn't quite as spacious or airy, but Louis was of the mind that free money was still free money--and in the end, it hadn't really changed how much time Louis spent in Harry's flat. They were still practically living together, now Louis just had twice as much space for his shit.

 

Louis had been tempted more than once to ask Harry if he genuinely missed the opportunity to bring women back to the flat, since he hadn't done it once in the year they'd lived together, but it turned out that Louis was a huge chicken shit.

 

Once he'd officially moved out, he'd wondered, horribly and painfully, if he'd start discovering women sleeping over in Harry's bed. If one day he'd walk into Harry's bedroom and there'd be a head full of blond hair on the pillow next to Harry's. He'd dreaded it, walked around on eggshells for months, keeping himself hyperaware for the possible presence of a woman in the flat. But not once had he seen evidence of one--there was never a single shoe, or hair pin or even the vague flowery smell of a woman's perfume. Louis had had to assume that Harry was behaving the same as he had before, when they'd been living together, and on the few nights when he didn't come home, it meant he'd taken his nocturnal activities somewhere else.

 

They'd never once discussed it, which was probably odd in itself, as they talked about everything, but Louis decided that a lot of people didn't like to bring their hookups to their personal spaces. Especially when you were rich enough to easily spring for a hotel for the night.

 

Besides, there was no telling how much cash a hookup of Harry's might get to dish on his home life to a tabloid or a gossip site. As it was, it felt like women were constantly coming out of the woodwork, claiming that they'd all slept with Harry Styles, indie darling.

 

Louis, being privy to so much of management's machinations, of course knew a lot of the stories were plants. He could only assume though that not _all_ of them were fake. Harry was young, gorgeous and stupidly successful. It didn't make sense that someone like that would be living the life of a monk.

 

On the other hand, Louis thought bleakly, _he_ was young, decently attractive, not very successful, and definitely living the life of a monk. Though that probably had less to do with the particular traits and more with the fact he had the stupidest, most hopeless crush in existence.

 

Louis moved from the living room down the hallway to Harry's bedroom. The door was open a crack and Louis took a steadying breath before knocking briskly and pushing it open. Harry's huge bed, with its fluffy white duvet, stood perfectly made in the center of the room. No Harry.

 

Louis frowned. Usually Harry was good at communicating if plans changed. Sometimes it might just be a quick text, but Louis couldn't remember a single instance when Harry had just neglected to be where he was supposed to be. Some celebrity clients might be a pain in the ass, and Louis had definitely heard his share of horror stories from the other PAs he met, but Harry was kind and polite and never failed to be considerate.

 

He really was the best boss ever, Louis thought, and for a brief second, contemplated whether Harry really deserved to be kidnapped. But then Louis remembered the last few months, of sad, mopey Harry. Of a Harry who'd actually snapped at Louis a handful of times. He needed to do this. For _Harry's_ sake.

 

Louis pulled his phone from his pocket and saw he didn't have a single messed text from Harry. Grunting with disapproval, Louis wondered with a sinking heart if maybe Harry hadn't even slept here last night. But that thought left Louis stupidly sick to his stomach, so like most thoughts he didn't like, he ignored it and dialed Harry's number instead.

 

Harry picked up on the last ring before the call went to voicemail. Louis totally didn't count or anything.

 

"Lou," Harry said breathlessly. "Sorry."

 

"Where the hell are you?" Louis demanded loudly. "I'm in your apartment to pick you up for the shoot and it's strangely empty."

 

"Change of plans," Harry explained. "I ended up having a meeting before. I'll meet you there?"

 

Louis frowned. Harry _never_ had meetings without Louis. What if Harry was thinking of firing him? Louis had a brief moment of absolute, stomach-curdling panic. He had job skills now, and connections and a savings account with a healthy balance, but Louis realized his fear had nothing to do with being kicked out onto the street again with no job and no money, but was all based on losing Harry.

 

Louis took a steadying breath. "Of course. You okay?"

 

"Fine," Harry replied casually but Louis could hear the underlying uncertainty in Harry's voice far too easily. Harry was a shit actor and besides, Louis _knew_ him. They'd spent the last two years of their lives inside each other's pockets. Louis could look at Harry's face once and know exactly what he was thinking. Except for the last few months--those he couldn't explain at all.

 

"Alright, well, I'll see you there." Louis hung up the phone and couldn't help but hate everything.

 

He might know Harry really, _really_ well but there was definitely something he wasn't telling Louis. Something that made him sad and unhappy and sometimes even difficult. And since that first week, when Louis had been so scared, and Harry had done everything in his power to make him feel okay again, Louis had felt a personal responsibility to Harry. It might be his job, but it wasn't just a job. It had never been just a job.

 

Louis wanted nothing more than to bury his face in the fluffy white duvet that smelled just like Harry and let himself indulge in a good cry, but there was work to be done and a photo shoot to get to, so Louis told himself to buck up and get to it.

 

Taking advantage of the empty apartment, Louis gathered Harry's dry cleaning, even though Harry usually insisted he could do it himself, and then checked the fridge and pantry. Noting what Harry was low on, Louis put in a quick online grocery order, and besides the bananas Harry practically lived on, even added some other more exotic fruit that he knew Harry enjoyed. It was silly to think a few mangos and a pineapple might be enough to lift Harry's spirits but over the last months, Louis had become desperate. Before, all he'd needed to bring a dimpled smile to Harry's beautiful face or squeeze a genuine laugh out of the boy were his own goofy antics--just stupid stuff that he'd say or do, twatty rude things, usually. But it didn't even seem to matter what Louis did, Harry loved it all. Louis had stupidly thought that Harry loved _him_.

 

Not in that way, of course. Louis knew it was pointless to even _hope_ that was possible. Even if Harry was attracted to men, which he'd never once hinted at, Louis knew better than to wish it might be him that Harry loved.

 

Harry was a big success possibly poised on superstardom. He was talented and wonderful and charismatic and so beautiful that sometimes people just stared at him. And even more, Louis thought rather despondently, he was such a wonderful person. Sweet and kind and selfless, without a single ounce of obnoxious ego. He was one of those boys who help an old granny cross the street. Or bake a cake for a new neighbor. Or hire a down-on-his-luck stranger who he'd run into at a Starbucks and then let him move in because the boy had nowhere else to go.

 

Which was why, despite all of Zayn's stupid, pointless prodding, there was never going to be a happy ending for Harry _and_ Louis. But Louis could make sure that there was a happy ending for Harry, because Harry was a guy who deserved one.

 

Louis booted up Harry's laptop and quickly opened a private browsing window. He made the arrangements efficiently, having already done quite a bit of research and arranged it all in his head. There was only the matter of a handful of reservations, and a few misleading emails. Considering how important a property Harry Styles was, it was surprisingly and almost scarily easily to confuse the matter of Harry's whereabouts.

 

At least it was for Louis, who had made it his business to essentially run Harry's entire life.

 

Reservations made, Louis made sure he'd closed the private browsing window and let himself out of the apartment. Usually he drove Harry in one of Harry's cars, but Harry had taken the Audi, so Louis unlocked his own Mercedes, a ridiculously extravagant gift that Louis had jokingly and excessively hinted at for weeks leading up to his one year anniversary as Harry's personal assistant. He'd never dreamed that he'd wake up that morning and discover a new set of keys casually sitting on his kitchen counter, wrapped with a simple bright blue ribbon.

 

Louis had known then that he was pretty much useless for Harry Styles. It didn't matter that Harry would never return his feelings or that someday soon Louis would have to watch Harry fall in love with one of the girls always trying to catch his eye. It only mattered that Louis was here now, and he could _do_ something.

 

So he took care of Harry, the _best_ care of Harry. Louis knew he'd gotten a bit of a reputation as a fanatical perfectionist, but that was only because his feelings had only grown and he'd needed an outlet, a _way_ to show Harry how much he cared, even if he could never actually tell him.

 

Zayn had told him over and over that it was sick and masochistic and that Louis should quit, but Louis had ignored him. The very idea of quitting was insanity. How would he ever see Harry if he quit? After a steady diet of daily contact for two plus years, Louis thought that if he had to go cold turkey off Harry Styles, he wouldn't handle it very well.

 

Traffic was terrible and when Louis finally reached the studio, he was nearly fifteen minutes late, which was unheard of for him. He'd never been _five_ minutes late since becoming Harry's assistant, even though for the proceeding twenty-two years, he'd been notorious for _always_ being late.

 

So he might not have been the best choice for a personal assistant, Louis reasoned as he stepped into the LA sunlight, and crossed the parking lot to the door, but he'd learned and as it happened, he and Harry had become a dynamite team.

 

When Louis walked into the studio, the shoot had already begun. Harry was in front of the camera, plain white shirt unbuttoned far enough down that Louis could nearly see all of Harry's butterfly tattoo. Louis frowned. Harry looked amazing, of course. Harry _always_ looked amazing. And it wasn't like Louis didn't love seeing as much of Harry's pale, smooth skin as he could. Louis just knew that Harry had specifically requested and had _hoped_ so damn much that maybe this photo shoot would be different. That the photographer might try to do more than just play off Harry's awful reputation as an insanely hot heartbreaker.

 

Louis considered approaching where the photographer was setting up and where Eleanor, his stylist, was discussing the shoot with Harry, but for some reason he didn't really understand, he hung back.

 

Maybe it was the hesitancy in Harry's voice this morning on the phone. Maybe it was the secret meetings that Harry had started having. Maybe it was the growing anxiety and discontent Harry couldn't seem to hide.

 

The photographer was maybe thirty and attractive. He wasn't beautiful like Harry, but Louis could say quite objectively that he was most definitely good looking. And as he finished setting up his equipment and turned towards Harry, Louis realized he was also most definitely gay.

 

Harry was fussing with his shirt and fussing at Eleanor. Louis didn't need to hear what he was saying to understand. He wanted to button it up. He wanted to be seen as more than just a broad, muscled body and those angelic green eyes. The photographer laid a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, and Louis watched with a growing, gnawing fear as Harry looked up at him in surprise.

 

Louis didn't think he missed it. It would be impossible to miss it when he'd been secretly looking for that look from Harry for the last two years. But for a split second, he saw Harry's eyes widen and dilate and Louis knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was turned on.

 

By a man.

 

Louis could hardly say he was homophobic, being gay himself, but as the photo shoot began, all he could feel was confusion. Was Harry really attracted to men? Just this one man?

 

"Oh Louis, I didn't see you come in," Eleanor said, walking over to where Louis was standing, still incredulous about what he'd just witnessed.

 

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Louis knew he was snapping unreasonably. It wasn't Eleanor's fault that Harry was having secret meetings with management or that he was maybe sometimes a little attracted to men and he'd never once chosen to confide this small, completely unimportant detail to Louis.

 

Harry wasn't obligated to confess every facet of his sexuality. He wasn't obligated to confess _any_ facet of his sexuality, Louis reminded himself. But it still _hurt_. They were best friends. He'd told Harry all about his ex-boyfriend Aidan, and how he'd ended up stranded, broke and homeless in Los Angeles when Aidan had absolutely refused to come out and let Louis share more of his life. There wasn't any aspect of Louis' homosexuality that they hadn't talked about.

 

How could Harry have stayed silent during all those conversations about his own? Louis didn't know. He swallowed hard, bitterness rising in his throat.

 

Eleanor gave him a concerned glance. "Are you alright?" she asked.

 

"Perfectly fine," Louis snapped again, all unnecessary attitude. "I thought we were going a different direction with this particular shoot." He knew he should have kept his stupid trap closed, but he worried so much about Harry--he worried about what _Harry_ worried about. It probably wasn't healthy but it was an unfortunate side effect of all those feelings he couldn't seem to help.

 

Eleanor elegantly shrugged one shoulder. "It wasn't what the magazine wanted. They specifically requested Harry Styles, ladykiller."

 

The way Harry had shyly glanced over the photographer's undeniably fit body was still replaying through Louis' mind. He couldn't seem to turn it off, no matter how much he wished he could pretend he'd never seen it.

 

"I don't like Harry Styles, ladykiller," Louis grumbled under his breath. A comment he thought was perfectly fair. After all, everyone who knew Harry had long since realized all that was a stupid promotional construction that didn't even slightly reflect reality.

 

But Eleanor's glance over at him was annoyingly sympathetic. "Oh, sweetie, I know."

 

"Uh, um," he stammered, afraid that he'd given himself away.  


Eleanor waved a hand airily. "Louis, everyone with eyes and even half a brain cell knows you're in love with him."

 

Louis choked. "What?" he squeaked, his mind racing. "What?"  


"It's not exactly a state secret," Eleanor said with an eye roll.

 

"Does _Harry_ know?" Louis squeaked out. Harry discovering his deep, dark, horribly shameful crush might explain his weird behavior over the last few months. He definitely didn't think Harry was homophobic, but humiliation bloomed in the pit of his stomach. He'd made _such_ a fool of himself, and god, if Harry _knew_.

 

"Of course not," Eleanor scoffed. "You know Harry. He's oblivious to the effect he has on the human population." She giggled a little, and Louis wished he was panicking less so he could laugh too. But it wasn't really funny; it was actually quite terrifying.

 

"Don't worry," Eleanor continued, in what she probably thought was a reassuring voice, but to Louis only came across as terrifically condescending. "I'm sure he won't find out."

 

"Right," Louis said, though he didn't feel optimistic about his chances. Maybe he should just quit now, before he humiliated himself any further.

 

"Oh, time for his change," Eleanor said lightly and walked over to the curtained-off section of the studio that they'd set aside for Harry to change behind. Louis thought darkly that if she'd realized just how much she'd just fucked him up, she wouldn't seem quite so carefree.

 

\------

 

Louis couldn't sleep that night. He laid awake, and analyzed the last two years to death.

 

 _Surely,_ he kept repeating to himself, _Harry would have told me. He would have confided in me._ The thought that maybe he hadn't, that he'd deliberately let Louis go on and on, _multiple times_ , and never said a word about his own sexual preferences, was too much for Louis to handle. It was as if the last two years, the two years that Louis cherished and  believed were the best two years of his life, were one lie after another. By three in the morning, Louis had decided that he must have imagined that look in Harry's eye. Maybe he was hungry or hungover or tired or _anything_. He couldn't have been turned on by the photographer. That was absolutely out of the question.

 

Louis decided things were rather bleak if he'd rather have Harry straight as an arrow and preserve the good memories of the last two years rather than even contemplate the possibility that Harry could be attracted to _him_.

 

He also contemplated canceling the reservations he'd just made. Maybe under the circumstances, it would be better _not_ to kidnap Harry Styles, but no matter which sexual orientation Harry identified as, Louis still felt it was his duty to _fix_ him. And he was convinced that the trip he'd planned would do that. So the next morning, as he groggily poured his first of what would no doubt be many cups of tea that day, he resolved that yesterday's potentially catastrophic events wouldn't impact his plans.

 

Besides, Louis reasoned, it was far too late to cancel now. He'd already set things in motion. Harry was supposed to be flying home to London tonight, though in reality Louis was going to kidnap him instead.

 

Harry was playing an intimate show tonight, testing out some of his new material. After the show, instead of driving them to LAX, Louis would be driving them up Highway 101.

 

He was decided. He was resolved. He was also fucking terrified.

 

\-----

 

"Great show," Louis enthused as Harry plopped down on one of the green room sofas. "Really great show, Haz."

 

Harry glanced over at Louis with the same affection he always had--even from the beginning. Louis cursed himself for being unable to stop his stupid brain from overanalyzing every single look or word from Harry.

 

Why couldn't he just forget the way Harry had looked at that photographer? Louis wished he could have it permanently erased from his consciousness.

 

"Felt good," Harry said, his dimple emerging as he grinned over at Louis.

 

Panic was streaking through Louis now. He was really going to do this crazy, mad thing. He was actually going to kidnap Harry Styles. A possibly _gay_ Harry Styles. A Harry Styles that Louis was hopelessly, ridiculously attracted to.

 

Yeah, he already knew this could only end fantastically well.

 

"Can't just sit there, Harold. Gotta take a shower and get ready for the airport." Louis was really proud he didn't stumble over the last word at all. He was a _great_ liar.

 

Harry groaned and stretched his arms up, and Louis tried not to check out the way his black t-shirt gripped his muscular biceps or the way it rode up his torso, revealing the ripples of his abs and the very tips of the laurel leaves that Harry had clearly gotten as a way to drive Louis sexually insane.

 

"Tired, Lou," Harry moaned a little, and Louis gritted his teeth at the roughness in Harry's voice. He was so ridiculously sexy after a concert, voice shot as if he'd just spent the last hour on his knees with Louis' cock down his throat.

 

"I know, but you've got a plane to catch," Louis reminded him again. One of the reasons he'd ended up such a great assistant to Harry was that when push came to shove, and Harry _needed_ to be somewhere or do something, Louis made sure it happened. Harry could manipulate just about anyone with that dimpled grin or a sexy little pout, Louis included, _except_ when Louis knew he had to stay strong.

 

"You can sleep on the flight," Louis continued, mentally changing _flight_ to _drive_. And Harry definitely could, there was no way that Louis was going to permit Harry to drive until he was sure Harry wouldn't turn around and drive them right back to LA.

 

"You're such a slave driver," Harry drawled, but there was affection in his tone as he hefted himself off the couch, stripping off the black t-shirt as he headed towards the showers. Louis tried not to look after him, tried not to take in the flex of his back muscles and how broad his shoulders were, but as usual he failed. Harry was too lovely _not_ to look at.

 

Twenty minutes later, Louis had packed their suitcases in the Mercedes and was waiting for Harry to finish saying goodbye to his backing band. He could hear Harry laughing in the green room with Niall, his other guitarist, and nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

 

Thankfully Harry hadn't seemed to notice how manic Louis had become as the time ticked closer to the inevitable moment when Harry realized what Louis had done. He probably was far too used to how silly and unhinged Louis could _normally_ be, which Louis had never particularly been grateful for until this moment.

 

"Hey Lou," Niall said, emerging from the green room. He was small and bottle blond, all light and enthusiasm, a great foil to Harry's pseudo-dark rock and roll brooding. They made a great pair on the stage, playing off each other in looks and in talent. Louis hadn't been sure of Niall at first, hadn't liked how close he and Harry had become, had actually spent several sleepless nights worrying that he would eventually be replaced by the Irish lad.

 

But instead of replacing Louis, Niall had become like a third musketeer to their regular shenanigans, and even a good friend of Louis', when it came down to it. Louis wondered with a sickening realization if maybe Niall knew about his feelings for Harry too, if he was one of the many who Eleanor claimed knew why he took such good care of his employer.

 

"Whatcha doing over the break?" Louis asked, mostly because he was too nervous to do anything but carry on the most rudimentary of small talk, even with Niall.

 

"Just staying in LA, I think," Niall said. "Don't feel like doing much else."

 

"I wouldn't want to stay here," Louis said, but then shut his mouth. He didn't want to give away that they weren't going to London after all, but on a crazy wild excursion that had somehow become a necessity.

 

“Mate,” Niall laughed, “you _live_ here.”

 

Louis had never thought of it that way before. He’d always thought of London as his home, and then he’d begun working for Harry and somehow in the last two years Harry become Louis’ _real_ home. Wherever Harry was—that was where Louis most wanted to be.

 

“Right, right.” Louis tried to laugh it off, but he was too tense to possibly relax into this conversation. “Is Harry still in the dressing room?”

 

Niall shot him a strange look. “He’ll be out in a minute, I’m sure. I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry to get to the airport, Tommo.”

 

The truth was, Louis was eager to kidnap Harry before he chickened out, but he couldn’t exactly tell Niall that.

 

“Ah, well, you know how much I love the airport shops,” Louis made up lamely.

 

Niall frowned again. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem. . .stressed.”

 

Louis wanted to grimace. He wanted to melt down and tell Niall all about his semi-nefarious plan. But if he did that, Niall would most definitely stop him. It was kind of a miracle that Zayn hadn’t already—but then Zayn knew how much Louis loved Harry and maybe Z had decided it wasn’t a bad idea for the two of them to be closeted away on a road trip.

 

 _Oh god_ , Louis thought, his spine tingling in panic, _what was I thinking? We’re going to be alone together. For_ days.

 

Of course that was the moment Harry chose to emerge from the green room, wearing one of Louis’ old t-shirts and holding an oversized jumper that Louis couldn’t even remember which of them had owned originally.

 

Louis watched with a mixture of horror and anxiety as Harry hugged Niall goodbye and turned to Louis with an expectant look. “You ready to go?” he asked.

 

Louis wasn’t sure he could actually speak, and he had to clear his throat before he found his voice. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.”

 

Harry stopped and frowned when they emerged into basement parking lot and Louis unlocked his Mercedes. “We’re taking your car to the airport?”

 

Louis froze. “Uh, yeah. I’ll have it picked up later from short term parking.”

 

Harry still hadn’t moved. “You’re going to leave your Mercedes in short term parking? At the airport?” He lifted an eyebrow quizzically at Louis. “You love that car. You _baby_ that car. You won’t even turn it over to a valet.”

 

“Needs a tune up,” Louis improvised, while thanking god for all those drama lessons he’d taken in school. “I arranged to have it done while we’re in London.”

 

Harry didn’t look fully convinced, but he started walking towards the car again and Louis let out the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding in. Nobody ever told you just how nerve-wracking this kidnapping business was.

 

“You’re being weird,” Harry said when they were finally seated in the car.

 

“You’re just weird,” Louis retorted as he surreptitiously locked the car and then disabled the passenger control of the locks. That feature alone was one of the reasons why he’d chosen to drive the Mercedes and not one of Harry’s other cars or even a rental. If push came to shove, Harry could probably overwhelm Louis with his sheer size, but Louis figured that things would have had to go pretty wrong for that to happen.

 

 

He didn’t want Harry to try to run away; he wanted Harry to stay and tell him everything that was bothering him. But nobody could accuse Louis of not being a realist.

 

 

 

His hands were sweaty and damp on the wheel, and as he pulled onto the freeway, he noticed that Harry had leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, but Louis knew he wasn’t asleep.

 

Louis took this opportunity to snag Harry’s cell phone from the charger and to tuck it into his pocket. Louis’ heart beat a little faster. He was both excited _and_ dreading the moment when Harry realized they were driving the opposite direction of LAX.

 

It took Harry twenty minutes. They were maybe the longest twenty minutes of Louis’ life. His hands were literally slick with sweat by that point and his heart had been beating so crazily for so long that he was half-convinced he was going to need a pacemaker by the time this ordeal was over. Harry drowsily opened his eyes, took in their location, then snapped suddenly to alert consciousness, and Louis knew the time had come.

 

“Louis,” Harry said slowly, “this isn’t the way to the airport.”

 

Louis took a deep breath. “No. No, it’s not.”

 

Confusion bloomed on Harry’s face. “I don’t understand.”

 

“I’m kidnapping you.” Louis had been waiting so long to announce this that it came out rather gleeful. He tried to school his features into a serious expression but now that the truth was out, he couldn’t prevent the huge grin that was currently overtaking his face.

 

“You’re kidnapping me,” Harry said slowly.

 

“Going to London is a mistake,” Louis said confidently. Full steam ahead, he figured. All in. The usual garbage. “It’s not any different from staying in LA. And you need a real break. So we’re taking one.”

 

Harry’s frown deepened. “What if I _wanted_ to go to London?” He didn’t sound horribly unhappy but he didn’t exactly sound pleased either. He sounded more shocked than anything. Louis chalked this up as a win.

 

“You can still go to London if you want, when we’re done.”

 

Harry was silent. Louis hadn’t been exactly sure how Harry would react to being kidnapped but this hadn’t even been on the list. He’d been expected rages and rants and disappointment. He hadn’t expected so much quiet.

 

Five minutes later, Harry asked, “so where are you taking me?”

 

This was a question that Louis had been especially looking forward to. He _knew_ Harry was going to love the itinerary. After all, Louis had designed it that way on purpose. “We’re driving up 101, along the coast, to Oregon. Visiting a few of their beach towns, then heading to Portland.” Louis glanced over at Harry, and in the light of the streetlamps could just make out his face. “Hipster central, you know. Your mothership.”

 

Five more minutes passed. “Louis,” Harry said firmly. “I appreciate that you’ve obviously gone to some trouble to put this together, but you’re going to turn this car around and take me to LAX.”

 

“No.” That was simple enough, Louis thought and re-gripped his hands on the wheel.

 

That was also the moment Harry glanced down, clearly looking for his phone, and realized that Louis had taken it.

 

Louis was almost really glad they’d hit some traffic because he couldn’t look over at Harry and the sharp intake of breath was bad enough. He couldn’t imagine the shock on Harry’s face.

 

“You’ve lost your mind,” Harry ground out. “You can’t do this to me.”

 

“Why not?” Louis said more than a little recklessly. “You’re not really any more important than anybody else, in the grand scheme of things. And like I said, you need it. You’ve been. . .odd, lately.”

 

“This is not a solution!” Harry burst out, and Louis was afraid that maybe he’d miscalculated. He’d thought if they made it through the initial reaction stage, everything would be alright, but Harry appeared to be growing more and more annoyed by the minute.

 

“You don’t always know best, you know,” Harry continued, practically growling. “You’re a fucking annoying twat, most of the time. _Odd_ , my ass.”

 

Louis pointedly ignored the insults. Those were to be expected, he supposed. “You really don’t think you’ve been off? Really?” He wasn’t certain if Harry was just being difficult or he was really that unaware of his own behavior. He didn’t _think_ it was the latter, but he also wasn’t going to judge.

 

“There’s been a lot going on, you know,” Harry grumbled. “That doesn’t mean I deserve to be _kidnapped_ and by _you,_ no less. I thought you were supposed to take _care_ of me.”

 

“This _is_ me taking care of you,” Louis insisted. “You need this break and you weren’t going to take it on your own. And don’t say I should have talked to you about it, because I _did_ and you fucking blew me off. A bunch of times.”

 

Harry didn’t say anything, just stared out the window, pointedly ignoring Louis. And that was not only perfectly fine with Louis, but not anything more than he’d expected. Anger he could deal with. Frustration, too. He just hoped those passed sooner rather than later.

 

As it turned out, he’d slightly miscalculated just how stubborn Harry could be. For the next three hours, Harry remained frustratingly silent, staring out the window even though it was pitch black outside and he couldn’t possibly see anything.

 

Louis went through a number of different emotional states in during those three hours—everything from frustration to anger to sympathy. He felt _everything_ , probably somewhat similar to how Harry was feeling. Louis couldn’t imagine it would be easy to be told that you were basically being _taken_ because you hadn’t been acting anything like yourself.

 

Louis understood, and he understood _Harry_ and he believed one thousand percent that Harry would come around eventually. Unfortunately, they were nearing the first stop—a hotel just south of San Jose—that Louis had decided on. He didn’t want to stop and give Harry a chance to get away while he was still so angry, but Louis was exhausted. He didn’t want to drive all night. His eyes had gotten heavy, even as his heart had grown heavier. There was no way around it; he’d have to risk prodding the beast before he was ready to be prodded.

 

“Harry?” he asked quietly.

 

Harry didn’t answer exactly, but he made kind of a grunting noise, and Louis took that as enough of an acknowledgement that he could continue and Harry might maybe listen.

 

“Harry, I’m sorry that you’re mad. I’m sorry I kidnapped you—“

 

“But not sorry enough to take me back.” Harry’s voice was strained and harsh and Louis couldn’t help but feel a bit shocked at just how betrayed he sounded. “You’re supposed to be my friend and the _one_ person who’s on _my_ side, and now you go and do this.”

 

A lump grew in Louis’ throat. He’d never imagined that Harry would take his behavior _this_ badly. “Of course I’m on your side!” he argued. “I told you, I’m trying to help you!”

 

“Doesn’t feel like help when you force it on me.”

 

Louis had never felt shittier in his life. God, had he really done this? Why hadn’t he listed more closely to Zayn when he’d said it was a huge mistake to kidnap Harry? Had he miscalculated so badly that Harry might never forgive him? Maybe Harry would even make sure he was fired. Louis felt dread settle in his stomach and he wondered if maybe he _should_ take Harry back.

 

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispered into the dark cavern of the car. “I’m so sorry. I thought you’d be. . .fuck, I thought you’d be happy, Harry.”

 

Harry didn’t respond and Louis had to try to swallow the gigantic lump that had taken up residence in his throat.

 

Ten minutes later, he pulled into the hotel, a nondescript chain that he’d selected for their first night. He’d figured they’d both be tired out from the show and would just need a place to crash. And he’d even stupidly only booked one room, thinking that Harry would have already forgiven him and they’d be able to chat more about their trip. They’d cuddle up in the gigantic king bed like they had so often while living together, hunched over Harry’s laptop, and he’d show Harry the route he’d selected and the towns they’d be visiting as they drove up the coast.

 

He’d been so stupidly optimistic and happy and _sure_. He’d been stupid, Louis revised now. So stupid. Stupidly in love, maybe, and stupidly desperate to somehow fix the distance that had grown between them lately. Stupid to think that a forced closeness could ever fix that distance.

 

Louis pulled into the hotel parking lot and turned off the car. “I’m going to go check us in,” Louis said.

 

Harry said nothing and so Louis just pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the door. While he was walking to the front entrance, he had a sudden horrible thought. What if Harry just took off? Without his phone? Without any of his luggage? What if he just up and left and wandered off in this suburb of San Francisco and Louis never saw him again?

 

Panic shot through him like lightning, and Louis didn’t think. He just hit the lock button on the fob and essentially locked Harry inside the car. Without the keys, he wouldn’t be able to get out. Louis didn’t look back though, terrified that he’d see Harry’s angry expression at being locked inside.

 

Ten minutes later, room key in hand, Louis approached the car with trepidation.

 

Harry was still sitting silently inside, his arms crossed over his chest, a blank expression on his face, his gorgeous green eyes dull and closed. Louis’ poor ruined heart gave a horrible thump in his chest.

 

“Alright, I’ve got our key,” he said hopefully, but Harry’s only answer was more silence.

 

“Okay, well, I’m tired,” Louis continued, more uncertainly. “So let’s go find our room.”

 

He opened the trunk and pulled out his suitcase then Harry’s duffel bag. Harry reached for his laptop bag. Louis glanced over at him apprehensively but Harry just glared at him. Louis couldn’t help it; he felt like he literally shrank about two sizes. Harry Styles had literally _never_ glared at him before. Never. Not once. This was the very first time and it was practically killing Louis.

 

The walk to the room was silent. Louis thought about half a dozen times about opening his mouth and saying something, maybe even apologizing again, but every single time he stopped himself. Clearly Harry wasn’t in a mood to hear his apologies. By the time they reached the room, Louis was beginning to wonder if the only thing Harry _was_ in a mood to hear was that Louis had given in and was taking him back to LA.

 

Louis opened the door with his key and they walked into the room. Harry didn’t say a word when he saw the one bed, but Louis couldn’t help his own flush of embarrassment. How had everything gone so wrong? Had he really miscalculated so completely? Was surprising Harry with a little road trip vacation so utterly wrong?

 

Clearly, Harry thought it was, and since Louis didn’t know how he’d ever manage leaving Harry’s side, maybe it was time to backtrack. The last thing Louis wanted to do was take Harry back to LA, but to save his job and save his friendship with Harry, he might.

 

 _No,_ Louis corrected, _he would._

He was just about to tell Harry that when Harry dumped his suitcase on the bed and without looking once at Louis, jerked it open, pulled out some clothes and gestured to the bathroom. “Going to take a shower,” Harry said and disappeared behind the closed door. Even though he’d only taken a shower a few hours ago. For a crazy second, Louis wondered if he would be able to escape out the bathroom.

 

He finally let out an unsteady breath. Maybe he could fix things if when Harry got out of the shower, Louis had already booked another ticket to London. For tomorrow. They could easily drive back the way they’d came in the morning and make it to LAX for an early afternoon flight. Then maybe Harry would forgive Louis and things could go back to normal.

 

Well, Louis amended, not _normal_ —maybe normal was too much to ever hope for again. Maybe this was the new-normal. That hurt, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought of losing Harry forever.

 

Louis reached for the laptop bag Harry had left on the bed and pulled out his laptop. He hadn’t brought his own because he hadn’t thought he’d need it. After all, he’d known Harry would have his and they’d often shared before. Not often in the last few months, maybe, but that was probably because Louis had moved out.

 

Louis booted it up from sleep mode, clicked on the Firefox icon, and when it loaded, felt his heart freeze in his chest.

 

His eyes flicked to the url of the site and nearly choked on air. Harry was watching _gay_ porn. Harry had _gay_ porn up on his laptop.

 

He couldn’t breathe. Paused on the screen, literally _halfway_ through the video, was an image of two men, pressed chest to chest, kissing passionately. One of the men had semi-collapsed on the other, writhing in pleasure from the cock deep inside of him. There was a hand curled possessively around his dick, and from the way his head was thrown back, eyes closed, Louis knew it must feel really good.

 

It felt like it had been years since anything but his fingers had filled him up or a hand other than his had gripped his dick and Louis, caught up in the visual of the image, felt a pulse of envy and then another, hotter, wave of lust.

 

 _God_ , Harry had watched _this_. Harry had watched this and _wanted_ it. Louis wanted it all with _him_.

 

With shaking fingers, Louis minimized the website and shoved the laptop off his lap. Suddenly, Louis couldn’t stop thinking of that moment a few days ago that he’d witnessed between Harry and the photographer. He’d wondered at the time if Harry might be attracted to men, but had finally decided he must have been momentarily delusional.

 

The porn he’d just seen was definitely not a delusion. There was something—a rather big something—that Harry was not telling him.

 

Of course, Harry chose that moment to walk out the bathroom, flushed and damp from his shower. Louis, still mostly in shock from what he’d discovered, blurted out, “Why didn’t you tell me you were gay?”

 

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What are you talking about?” he challenged, but Louis knew he was lying. He could see the fear in his eyes, carved into the white brackets around his mouth. He was _terrified_ and fuck if Louis knew why. Harry _knew_ Louis was gay, had heard every detail of his own coming out story. Knew that Louis could keep a secret. Knew that Louis would only fucking sympathize and empathize, but for some reason that Louis couldn’t even begin to grasp, Harry was _still_ lying.

 

Was maybe Harry lying to himself? But watching gay porn, Louis thought, that was perhaps a step beyond being afraid of your own inclinations. That was practically _embracing_ your inclinations.

 

“Your laptop,” Louis stuttered out. “I went to book tickets to London tomorrow and you were watching gay porn. And the other day, you _liked_ that photographer.”

 

Harry’s face grew shuttered. “I can’t believe you were snooping through my things. First you kidnap me, and then you pry into my private life.”

 

“I’m not fucking prying,” Louis said, trying to stay calm even though he wanted to yell at Harry. “I went to book a ticket for you so you could go to London, since that’s all you seem to want anymore.” He paused, and added under his breath, “well, not _all_ you seem to want.”

 

“How do you even know what I want?” Harry retorted.

 

Louis wanted to rewind time and never flounce into Zayn’s tattoo parlor, so superior and sure of his place in Harry’s life. He wanted to never be foolish enough to think he could do something nice for Harry.

 

“Well, you clearly didn’t want to tell me,” Louis said bitterly. “ _Me_.”

 

Something awful flashed across Harry’s face. “Liam said I shouldn’t tell anyone. It’s a huge secret.”

 

Harry’s confirmation was the sweetest agony that Louis had ever known. Harry wasn’t quite as far out of his reach as he’d always thought, but in the end, he was actually about as attainable as a star in the sky.

 

Louis knew he sounded bleak and hopeless. “I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he repeated. “I thought you trusted me. I thought we were _friends_.”

 

Harry sank to the edge of the bed and Louis buried his face in his hands. “We are friends, Lou,” Harry corrected softly. “I just. . .I _couldn’t_ tell you. Not you.”

 

Lifting his head, Louis stared right into Harry’s beautiful eyes and for the first time, they seemed clear and honest. Like he wasn’t hiding under a secret trying to eat him alive. And suddenly, everything made so much more sense.

 

“Is that what’s been bothering you, then?” Louis demanded. “Liam won’t let you come out?”

 

“It’s not really just Liam,” Harry corrected. “All of the management team _and_ my Sony reps. None of them want me to even breathe a word to anyone. I’m basically forbidden.”

 

Coming out had been really tough on Louis. Gay men weren’t exactly thick on the ground in their neighborhood in Doncaster or in his school, but he’d done it because Louis knew it was more important to be true to himself than to be liked. It had been hard. He’d been bullied and beat up and spit on and called just about every disgusting nickname in the book. But he’d made it out and moved to London. He’d met Aidan and they’d fallen in love. Things had gotten better. Harry deserved that chance, just the same as everyone else.

 

“Basically?” Louis asked softly.

 

“I mean, it’s not like I’m _actually_ forbidden,” Harry admitted. “More like they’ve told me what’ll happen if I do. And it’s not pretty, Lou.”

 

Louis didn’t suppose it would be; the hardest things usually never were. But the hardest things were so often the best ones.

 

“What do _you_ want?” Louis asked.

 

Harry’s eyes gleamed stubbornly. “I want this album to sell a bunch of copies and for all those people who buy it to love it. I want to tour and play to them. I want to be a star. And I can’t be gay and get those things. Not now.”

 

Louis’ heart ached. “So you didn’t tell me because you were actually afraid I’d _tell_ someone? _Me_?”

 

Harry’s gaze dropped to his lap and he fiddled with his rings. “I wanted to tell you. I did.”

 

Louis felt hurt and anger coalesce deep in his chest. “Plain and simple, you didn’t trust me.”

 

“Of course I trust you,” Harry scrambled, but the words were empty. Meaningless. He _hadn’t_ trusted Louis—not with his most important secret anyway.

 

Louis stood up and his heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces. He’d never thought of a future where he’d have to let Harry go, but maybe if Harry truly didn’t trust him, didn’t feel like Louis deserved his secret, it was better this way. Louis was always going to get his heart smashed anyway; maybe it was better on his own terms and better before he fell any further. “Maybe it’s better that I go, Harry. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you home tomorrow.”

 

He couldn’t even look at Harry, even as his heart gasped for one last glimpse. One last moment where he could pretend that Harry was _his_ , even if it all been a desperate construction. Louis grabbed his suitcase and had turned to the door when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked up to see Harry’s eyes filled with tears. “God, please don’t go, Lou, please don’t go,” he mumbled.

If it was hard to walk away before, it was impossible to walk away with Harry begging him not to go.

 

“Harry,” Louis said as firmly as he could, “I’m supposed to be your personal assistant. I’m the person you’re literally supposed to trust the _most_. And you just admitted that you didn’t trust me at _all_. It’ll be better for you if you find someone else. Someone better.”

 

Harry’s face crumpled even further. “Nobody better,” he mumbled. “Nobody, _ever_.”

 

“Then what the _fuck,_ Harry?” Louis yelled, suddenly so angry he could barely contain himself. How could Harry _say_ those things to Louis, and say them like he meant them, all while _lying_ to him?

 

“You don’t understand,” Harry sobbed. “You don’t get it. I didn’t tell you because I knew what would happen if you found out. If you found out about _me_.”

 

Ice condensed, hard and heavy, in Louis’ stomach. “What would happen? And what would happen, Harry?” he demanded to know. “I’d hate you? I’d never forgive you? I’d be a fucking homophobic asshole? _Really_ , Harry? That’s what you thought would happen?”

 

“No, no, no,” Harry insisted, gazing up at Louis, his eyes green and wet, like a garden after a rainstorm. “You’d want. . .of course you would want. . .”

 

Louis went numb. Absolutely fucking numb. Harry _knew_. Jesus Christ. He was never going to be able to look Harry in the eye again. Harry had kept this painful secret because he’d somehow believed that Louis wouldn’t be able to control himself? Wouldn’t be able to keep it just friendly? Well _fuck you too_ , Harry Styles, Louis thought savagely.

 

“I can’t listen to any more of this,” Louis choked out. “I’m leaving.”

 

The first time he’d gone to leave, maybe a tiny part of him had hoped that Harry would stop him. Now, he couldn’t wait to get away from Harry—something he’d never imagined would ever happen. But then he’d never imagined that Harry would know about his crush and would use that as a reason to never confess his sexuality. Louis’ destroyed heart thumped painfully in his chest and he had a hand grasped around the door handle when another, much larger, hand closed over his.

 

“No,” Harry said and actually pulled Louis around, pushing up against the door. “You’re not leaving. Not now. Not _ever_.”

 

Louis pointedly stared at the wall over Harry’s shoulder. He wasn’t going to look back into Harry’s mesmerizing eyes and watch him beg Louis to stay. Not after everything Louis had discovered tonight.

 

“No,” Harry repeated more insistently, and while one hand continued to hold Louis’ arm against the door, his other reached between them and brushed against Louis’ chin, the pads of his fingers rough and calloused from years of playing the guitar. Harry pointedly moved Louis’ head so that he didn’t have a choice but to meet Harry’s eyes. Louis wanted to flinch away but he really didn’t want to get into a physical confrontation with Harry. Louis was strong, but not _that_ strong.

 

“Besides,” Harry said, his tone suddenly soft, “I know you, Lou. I know you don’t really want to leave.”

 

Louis jerked his head away from Harry’s fingers. He wanted to grab his suitcase and run to his car and drive back to LA and curl up in his bed and cry for days. Harry _knew_. There was no other possible explanation for all his cryptic comments. He knew and he’d been afraid Louis would want more, so he’d simply never told him the truth.

 

“You don’t know anything,” Louis snapped.

 

“I know you care about me. You take such goodcare of me, Lou,” Harry insisted and his voice was practically a warm caress across Louis’ cheek. Louis wanted to stay like this forever, practically in Harry’s arms, with him cooing sweet nothings into his ear. But it would all be a lie, he reminded himself before he got too caught up in the fantasy that maybe Harry might want to stay like this forever, too.

 

“It’s my job.”

 

Harry continued on as if Louis hadn’t said a word. “Do you know why I didn’t want to go with you on this trip? Do you even know why I was so mad?”  


Louis shrugged. “Because you _were_ mad? Because you didn’t want to spent the next two weeks with me?” It hurt to even say it, but Louis couldn’t help it. He _was_ hurt and mad and maybe pouting a little. He just wanted Harry to _let him go_.

 

“Louis, I’ve spent the last two years with you.”

 

“Because you _had_ to. You _pay_ me to do that.” Maybe if Louis repeated it enough times, Harry might actually listen. But he didn’t seem to be listening any more now than he had before. He just brushed Louis’ assertion away like it was nothing.

 

“You’re actually right, I didn’t really want to spend the two weeks with you.”

 

Louis couldn’t help it, he froze, the words detonating on him like bombs, blowing away the last of his illusions. He swallowed hard. “Are you firing me, then?”

 

Harry laughed then, and Louis felt his stomach sink even further. “You really don’t get it, do you? I thought maybe you knew. You _had_ to know.”

 

“If you’re talking about knowing you’re gay, I _definitely_ did not know. I’m pissed as hell that I didn’t know, whether that’s fair or not,” Louis shot back. “So start making some fucking sense or I’m leaving. Even if you try to stop me.”

 

Harry laughed low and husky and Louis couldn’t even help it. He shuddered a little, and he knew Harry must have felt it, because he was still gripping his bicep as if he couldn’t bear to let him go. But Louis knew that couldn’t be even a tiny bit true.

 

“No, not about me being gay.” Harry paused and took a deep shuddering breath. Louis felt the air gust across his cheek. “About me having feelings for you. That’s why I didn’t want to come with you. I didn’t think I could spend two weeks with you and only you and keep it together. I . . .I. . .I like you so much.”

 

Louis felt like he’d just punched in the gut. “What?” he squeaked, voice high and embarrassingly reedy. “ _What_?”

 

“That’s why you didn’t know,” Harry said bashfully, glancing down at Louis through curved lashes. “I knew if I told you, you’d want what I want.”

 

Louis couldn’t deny he was right; or he _might_ be right if Louis could stop his thoughts from racing for five seconds and get his fucking bearings. Harry had _feelings_ for him?

Unfortunately, Louis didn’t tend react to shocks well. He didn’t react well now. “How do you even know what I want?” he demanded, maybe a trifle harsher than was entirely necessary. But he felt stripped raw and vulnerable and like what he’d always believed was up and down, left and right, black and white, had gone all topsy turvy.

 

Harry blinked once, then again. He lifted his big hand off Louis’ arm and took a step back. “Oh,” he said softly. “ _Oh_.”

 

Louis didn’t know why he didn’t just say, “of course, you fucking idiot, I’m in love with you too.” But he felt like he was only getting half the story and that was making him crazy. Even if he could assimilate the concept that Harry had feelings for him—the thought that Harry might _still_ be keeping secrets stopped him in his tracks.

 

He knew there was some question he should be asking, some thread of logic that he was missing, but his head was spinning too hard from Harry’s revelation to catch it.

 

“Let’s just go to bed. I’m so fucking tired,” Louis said, suddenly beyond exhausted, physically and emotionally. “Do you want to do this or should I just book the tickets to London?”

 

Harry glanced over at him hesitantly. “You’ve never steered me wrong yet.”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Louis vowed and hoped that Harry would understand.

 

“Then let’s do it,” Harry said, and Louis couldn’t help but catch the note of superficial excitement in his voice—but fuck it, Louis didn’t care if he was faking it now. It would be real in the end. He _knew_ it would be. He’d spent too much time thinking out and planning the _perfect_ trip for Harry. He’d have to love it; he literally wouldn’t be able to help it. At least that was what Louis was counting on.

 

“Okay.” Louis hefted his suitcase up on the bed and had unzipped it and was sorting through his clothes when he glanced up to see Harry still hovering. “Yes?” he asked.

 

“Um, would it be okay, I mean, could I have my phone back?” Harry asked.

 

Louis had always intended to give him the phone back when Harry committed to the trip and showed no inclination to be taken back to LA. But considering Harry’s bombshell tonight and how much that whole toxic world was controlling him, Louis was beginning to realize what Harry needed was a _true_ vacation. He needed to actually get away from it _all_.

 

“No,” he said decisively. “No, you don’t get it back. The idea is to get away from everything. And I think you need it.”

 

Harry’s shoulders sagged and Louis couldn’t help but see the teary glimmer return to his green eyes. “You know me so well, Lou. So well.”

 

Louis turned and wrapped Harry in his smaller frame, hugging him tight. “It’s okay,” Louis said as Harry cried wetly against his t-shirt. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay now.” Louis wasn’t entirely certain of that fact, if what Harry was saying about his management team was right, but they had two weeks to figure things out. Including that rather bizarre bomb that Harry had just dropped on him. For a split second, Louis wanted to push Harry away and get his own Harry-free space so he could properly examine the confession he’d made, but Harry needed him right now and Louis never wanted to turn him away. So he kept hugging him tighter and tighter, cuddling him close as Harry let out so many months of fear and frustration and sadness.

 

Finally, Harry pulled away from Louis’ shoulder, his cheeks flushed and wet. “Better,” he mumbled. “You’re the best, Lou.”

 

“Harry,” Louis said simply, “I want you to be who you are. Only you. Especially when it comes to me. No more hiding, okay?”

 

Harry nodded and returned to his own suitcase, fumbling with the contents as Louis pulled out a pair of flannel sleep pants. Louis was just about head to the bathroom when Harry asked quietly, “are you sure you’re okay sharing a bed with me?”  


Louis glanced back in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked. “You’re the same bloke I knew before. We’ve shared a bed plenty of times.”

 

Harry shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah but, well. What I said before. That was before that.”

 

Louis wasn’t prepared to talk about that. Not even a little bit. He needed about ten million years to process that particular information. And to figure out exactly what Harry still wasn’t telling him. “It’ll be grand,” Louis said breezily, deliberately not addressing Harry’s concern.

 

It probably wasn’t fair of him, but they were both exhausted, too exhausted to go find another room, anyway. And it was a king bed. How uncomfortable could it be?

 

When Louis came out of the bathroom, Harry had turned the lights off and was settled into bed, curled around a pillow. “I’m not even going to a set an alarm,” Louis whispered. “I’m just going to let us go at our own pace.”

 

Harry didn’t respond and Louis figured he was already asleep. Closing his eyes, Louis followed him almost instantly.

 

\-----

 

As Louis slowly gained consciousness, he realized several things.

 

He was curled around someone. Someone with curly hair. And that curly hair was in his eyes and his nose and it should have been annoying and probably kind of awful, but it was soft and warm from the sunlight streaming into the room and it smelled heavenly. Louis wanted to bury his face—okay, bury his face _more_ —into the mass of hair and never leave.

 

It took him another few seconds to realize the body was large and hard, but still indescribably comfy and soft, and it was even warmer than the hair attached to it. For a split second, Louis wondered if he’d been mad enough to pick up some Harry lookalike in a bar and bring him back to his apartment. Then his head cleared a little more, the sleepy fuzz fading away, and Louis had a horrible, dawning realization that this wasn’t a Harry- _like_ stranger that he was currently curled around like a fucking koala—it was _actually_ Harry.

 

Even worse, Louis had actually gone through with his mad plan and _taken_ Harry.

 

Then Louis _really_ remembered, the thoughts cascading through him in a nauseating rush.

 

Harry liked _liked_ men. Harry maybe liked _him_. But Harry was also apparently determined to stay in the closet.

 

Louis let out a tiny groan. He kind of wished he could fall back asleep and forget everything he’d just remembered. Real life was too difficult. Dreams about spun silk curls and soft, velvety skin stretched over hard muscles were so much better than actual reality. At least _this_ particular reality.

 

“Lou?” Louis jumped as Harry’s gravelly voice scared him.

 

They’d slept together in the same bed dozens of times, but of all the mornings to completely forget about every good intention he’d ever had, it had to be _this_ morning. Louis wanted to weep with embarrassment, and then he realized that his semi-hard cock was literally pressed up against Harry’s tiny but surprisingly curvaceous bum.

 

Weeping, Louis thought dramatically, wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to throw himself out the window and let himself be carted home in a couple dozen pieces.

 

He lifted his hands from Harry’s skin, and was trying to figure out how to magically inch away from Harry’s tempting body before his situation became way too obvious when Harry’s voice stopped him. “Feels nice,” Harry said foggily, wiggling deeper into the covers. “So warm.”

 

Louis froze as Harry proceeded to rub right up against his cock. He tipped his head back and bit his lip. Harry felt amazing, but things were already _weird_ between them. Wouldn’t it make the situation even weirder to start humping on each other?

 

It just about killed him, but he untangled his arms the rest of the way from Harry’s broad chest and scooted back a couple of inches. Just enough to give him a hope and a prayer at thinking with his head and not his dick.

 

Harry turned over and Louis felt his breath catch in his chest. He was so beautiful like this, all sleep-rumpled curls, milky white skin and green eyes shining in the morning sunlight. He was practically a Disney princess come to life. Was it any wonder that two years ago Louis had taken one look at his savior and practically tossed his heart at Harry’s feet?

 

“Hi,” Harry said softly.

 

Louis had hoped so much that it wouldn’t be awkward. He’d planned this trip to try to eliminate the strain from their relationship but Harry’s confession last night had only brought back the discomfort in spades.

 

Still, it was nice to look at Harry and finally understand _all_ of what made him tick. If Louis was being horribly honest with himself, the discovery that Harry was gay had only made him fall even harder and not only because now he might actually have a chance.

 

“I don’t want this to be weird,” Harry murmured. “Can it not be weird?”

 

“I’d love it not to be weird,” Louis admitted, “but I think we’re a bit beyond that.”

 

Harry squirmed a little under the covers, his gaze dropping from where he’d been meeting Louis’ eyes to his chest, to the words he’d tattooed across his collarbones.

 

“But we can fix it,” Harry pressed. “Right?”

 

Louis couldn’t help his answering smile. That was _exactly_ what he wanted—to repair their friendship. “Of course,” Louis said confidently. “That was the whole reason I planned this trip, babe.”

 

Harry froze a little and Louis cursed at his slip-up. Harry was not his baby, as much as he might dream about it. Even if he apparently preferred guys—that didn’t mean that he really, truly preferred Louis.

 

“How about some breakfast?” Louis said brightly, trying to change the subject. “I’m half-starved.”

 

“You’re always half-starved,” Harry grumbled good-naturedly as he rolled over and dragged himself out of bed. Louis tried not to look at the way his back muscles flexed as Harry stretched but he failed pathetically.

 

“I’m getting in the shower,” Louis said as he slid out the other side of the bed. He didn’t mention that it was probably going to be a _cold_ shower.

 

\------

 

They grabbed a quick diner breakfast, greasy and filling, a couple of blocks away from the hotel. Louis grimaced and swallowed down two cups of coffee, hoping the caffeine would wake his brain up. While Harry paid the bill, Louis ducked out to the bathroom, because he knew they wouldn’t be stopping for at least a few hours.

 

When he emerged from the bathroom after his proactive wee, Harry was leaning against the Mercedes, one booted foot crossed over the other, his lanky legs looking a mile long in his tight jeans. Louis’ throat went dry and he had to clear it once, then again as he unlocked the car.

 

“Got you something for the road,” Harry said, handing a cup over the center console. “I know you get tetchy if you don’t get your tea in the morning.”

 

Louis peeked inside the lid and couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face. “You remembered.”

 

Harry leaned back in his seat and didn’t glance over in Louis’ direction as he said, “Two years, Lou. Of course I remembered. I like taking care of you too, you know. No matter what you say.”

 

Louis’ insides heated and that had nothing to do with the tea he miserly sipped, never wanting to reach the end of the cup. Of course Harry had fetched him tea once in awhile when they still lived together, but it had been a long time. And the one and only time he’d done it while they were “working,” Louis had sat Harry down and told him unequivocally that it made the assistantlook terrible if the star was running errands for him. Harry had just shrugged and hadn’t seemed to mind, but then he hadn’t done it again.

 

Louis had been both grateful and despondent. He hadn’t realized just how much the small gesture had really meant to him. But Harry had clearly remembered and had wanted to repeat it, even as he’d respected Louis’ request.

 

“Okay.” Louis was driving so he couldn’t exactly look over at Harry and beam at him like he wanted to, but he hoped his smile made it clear that he was more than okay with it.

 

“I’m going to keep doing it too,” Harry said, pressing on with clear determination. “You can’t stop me. I don’t give a shit what it looks like.”

 

Louis tapped his hands on the wheel and wondered if right now, with him merging onto the freeway to the coast, was the best moment to have this conversation. It was definitely the least romantic point he could pick, which in the end, was what decided him. The less he was able to be swept away with the potential romance, the more practical and straightforward he could be.

 

“So, you meant it then.” Louis paused. “What you said last night.” He chanced a glance over at Harry. His eyes were closed and sunlight dappled his face. But at Louis’ words, Harry’s mouth turned down into a tiny frown.

 

“Of course I meant it. Why would I say that and not mean it?” Harry asked, hurt edging his voice.

 

“I just. . .” Louis waved his hand abstractly, trying to focus on merging and also on not fucking up this whole conversation. “It’s just me. I’m not . . .you know. And you’re. . .well, you’re _you_.”

 

Harry harrumphed out an exasperated sigh. “We’re not talking about this here. Not like this. And you’re not _just_ you, Lou. Trust me.”

 

Louis swallowed around the lump in his throat. So Harry had really meant it then. He’d meant it and continued to mean it. What had just happened to his life?  


“And you thought I’d want you to come out?”

 

“Of course you would.” Harry said it like it was a given. “You’d told me about Aidan. And how you would never end up in a relationship like that again, coming second again and again for someone who wasn’t out publicly.” His voice dropped and Louis wanted to pinch himself at how tender it became, even as it took every fairy tale fantasy he’d managed to weave in the last thirty seconds and rip them to shreds. “And I could never ask you to do that for me.”

 

Louis wanted to cry. “Right.”

 

After that, they drove in silence. Louis had never wanted more to turn around and drive back to LA. The tension between them, which had just barely begun to dissipate after Louis had figured out Harry’s big secret, was back tenfold, though Louis had to admit it was a little different this time around. Now they knew they wanted each other, they just _couldn’t_ , not unless Louis wanted to break the promise he’d made to himself after Aidan.

 

Louis had learned some hard lessons after Aidan. Sometimes love wasn’t enough and in the end, it was more important to stay true to yourself than to go chasing after some hot guy, even if your heart was begging you to give in.

 

“How about some music?” Harry suggested, breaking the tense silence that had fallen between them. Louis let out a shaky breath and nodded in agreement. Maybe some music would be a good thing.

 

Harry flipped on the satellite radio. “I actually have a road trip playlist,” Louis admitted shyly. He’d spent way too much building it, obsessing over finding the perfect songs to listen to on their drive because that was easier than obsessing over whether he’d ever be able to fix their friendship.

 

“Let’s have a listen then,” Harry said with a quick grin in Louis’ direction. “It’s on your phone, yeah?”

 

Louis handed his phone over and Harry plugged it into the center console, scrolling through his playlists until he found the one he’d named “Road Trip!”

 

Billy Joel blasted over the Mercedes’ speaker and Harry’s face lit up, like Louis had flipped a light switch deep inside him. Louis couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Harry smile like that _period_ , and gave himself a mental pat on the back for a job well done.

 

Billy Joel segued into The Clash, then Good Charlotte and Katy Perry before Harry turned the volume down a few clicks and glanced over at Louis. “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

 

Louis told himself to relax. Told himself that this wasn’t a test. That there wasn’t a passing or a failing grade. That if they wanted to have fun on this trip, they _would_ , and it wouldn’t matter what they did. They used to have fun together by watching terrible cooking competition shows and stuffing their face with microwave popcorn.

 

“We’re catching 101 in Santa Cruz. I really wanted us to stay out of the bigger cities but I figured we’d be ready for lunch. And I haven’t been to the pier there, so I thought we could check it out.”

 

“How much do you have planned out?” Harry asked and the question seemed completely genuine with zero judgment whatsoever, as if Harry was completely prepared to follow along with whatever Louis had decided on.

 

Louis couldn’t remember the last time Harry had followed him blindly, though he’d done it so much at the beginning. It had definitely been months. “I’ve got a pretty flexible schedule planned,” he admitted, “though only tentative reservations at places that I thought seemed cool that might not be available spur of the moment.”

 

“So we’re. . .” Harry hesitated, “we’re really free then. We’re not expected anywhere, at any particular time.”

 

Louis’ worry lightened considerably at the wonder in Harry’s voice. “That’s the whole point,” Louis admitted. “The freedom of it.”

 

Harry didn’t say anything in response, but Louis glanced over at him and even though he was staring out the passenger window, Louis knew he was smiling brightly. A real, _true_ smile. And a little more of Louis’ tension slipped away.

 

\----

They stopped for lunch as planned in Santa Cruz.

 

Louis found a parking spot a few blocks away from the pier. Even though it was warm for late September in LA, Harry pulled on a jumper from his duffel and tucked all his hair underneath the hood, firmly pushing his sunglasses on as they walked towards the ocean.

 

“You worried about being recognized?” Louis asked, even though he already knew the answer to that question.

 

Harry was definitely famous, and getting more famous by the day, but so far they hadn’t had an ugly scene or a mob and it was only that single thing that kept management from assigning him a permanent bodyguard. But Louis still knewHarry worried about it.

 

Harry just shrugged. “I can take some pictures, sign some autographs if I have to. But I’m on vacation. I don’t really want to.”

 

“It’ll be fine,” Louis soothed. “The good news is that everywhere else we’re going is pretty remote. You might not even be recognized.”

 

“That sounds like heaven,” Harry admitted.

 

Louis frowned. “You know, you _can_ say no. You’re not obligated to be ‘on’ all the time. Especially when you’re not out in a work capacity.”

 

Harry’s shrug was awkward. “I know, but I don’t like to. I don’t want to be _that_ guy. I wanted this. The fans got me where I wanted to be. It seems kind of awful to not take a picture or sign something if they ask.”

 

“I’m just saying. You’re not being a dick when you say no, you’re just saying no.” Louis hated how Harry felt so obligated to his fans. Like they _owned_ him or something. As far as Louis was concerned, nobody owned Harry but himself.

 

It was a Monday, so the pier wasn’t as busy as Louis had been expecting. They walked down one side, feeling the fresh sea breeze in their faces, and Louis was silently relieved that they weren’t bothered once.

 

“I want a corn dog,” Louis announced as they approach a stand that appeared to fry just about everything on earth.

 

“Gross,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the menu. “Oreo cookies, snickers bars, _butter_? Is there anything sacred that they _won’t_ fry?”

 

“Fried food is delicious,” Louis argued, but when he ordered, he skipped the stranger items and stuck to a corn dog for him and one for Harry. Harry gave it a dubious look but nevertheless, he dipped it into the mustard and took a big bite.

 

When Louis looked up from his own lunch, Harry’s corn dog was already gone. Harry glanced over at him, a sheepish grin on his face.

 

“Another?” Harry asked, as he rose up from the bench they were sharing. “It turns out that just about anything _is_ good fried.”

 

 “Sure, I’ll have another. And maybe a Coke too?” Louis shot Harry a coy, almost-flirtatious grin and to his pleasure and astonishment, it was so effective that Harry very nearly fell over his own feet on the way back to the food stand.

 

It was absolutely the least helpful thing to contemplate, but Louis couldn’t help wondering just how much power he really had over Harry. It was terrible of him, but when Harry returned, two corn dogs and a large fountain drink cup balanced in his huge hands, Louis scooted a little closer on the bench and laid a caressing hand on Harry’s jean-clad knee.

 

“Thanks, babe,” Louis said, letting his voice go a little high and coy the way he often used to when he was out at the clubs, trying to pull for the night. He hadn’t done it in years, but Louis figured he must still have the skills because Harry blushed and stammered out a quick, “you’re welcome,” and turned back to his corn dog like it was the singularly most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

 

Unfortunately Harry’s singular attention also meant Louis watched him eat it this time around.

 

And okay, Louis had noticed Harry’s lips once or twice before. His whole mouth, actually. It was practically sinful—all plush soft lips that could fall wide and open and greedy. In a few of Louis’ weaker moments, he’d imagined that beautiful mouth on his cock, but he’d never gotten a really good visual. Not until today.

 

Harry swallowed the corn dog mostly whole and Louis choked on air. Harry turned to him, all caring concern, but Louis wasn’t stupid. He saw the calculating gleam in Harry’s eyes and knew that he’d just been played right back.

 

In that moment, Louis came unbelievably close to demanding they pack up and head right back to LA. He knew where this was going and it could only end one way—him madly, devastatingly in love with Harry Styles after spending two weeks screwing each other up the Pacific coast.

 

“You okay, Lou?” Harry asked sweetly, all innocent Bambi eyes and coy smirk. Louis wanted to eat him alive.

 

It would have been the right decision to tell Harry that they had to leave. Right then. The part of Louis’ brain that still wanted to do the right thing—really, the part that still had logical thought—demanded it. But Louis was in deep. Harry was still gazing over at him, milky skin gleaming like marble in the dappled sunlight, eyes clear and green and perfect, the scent of his hair weaving between them as the breeze wafted through it, and Louis just couldn’t do it. Everything he wanted in the last two years, but what felt more like forever, was sitting in front of him and it was practically begging to be taken.

 

Maybe a better man could have resisted, but Louis already knew he wasn’t better.

 

Harry licked his lips and the image shot straight to Louis’ dick.

 

He definitely wasn’t better.

 

\----

Harry insisted on browsing through a few of the pier shops, buying a silly magnet shaped like a anchor, with Santa Cruz inscribed on it. “Maybe I’ll get one everywhere we visit, and I’ll put them on the fridge when we get back,” Harry said as they left Santa Cruz behind and headed further up the coast.

 

Harry had turned the music back on and now Fleetwood Mac was playing.

 

Louis hummed along as Stevie Nicks crooned about her dreams, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

 

“Maybe,” he finally said, not wanting to remind Harry that they no longer shared a kitchen _or_ a refrigerator. But maybe that was okay. Maybe it would be okay for Harry to be eating his morning cornflakes and look over to the fridge and see a trip’s worth of memories of Louis. Maybe he wouldn’t regret what might be about to happen.

 

Louis wanted so much for his hope to not be as delusional as it seemed.

 

Half an hour down Highway 101, they drove through Pescadaro.

 

“Oh, look at that,” Harry exclaimed excitedly, pointing to a dusty sign on the side of the road. “There’s a farmer’s market down here.”

 

This was exactly what Louis had had in mind when he’d planned this trip. He’d wanted Harry to take all the time he wanted to see everything he never got to see when he was touring. So he turned down the side street Harry indicated and pulled the car to a stop next to the farmer’s market.

 

They piled back into the car twenty minutes later with arms full of homemade jams and jellies—everything from peach preserves to some kind of jalapeno jelly that Louis was certain would give him heartburn. But he hadn’t murmured a word when Harry had plucked it from the shelf. As far as Louis concerned, that was definitely a higher form of love.

 

“So good,” Harry murmured around a ripe mango, juice dripping down his face as he took one bite and then another.

 

“Harry!” Louis exclaimed. “Juice! On my leather seats!”

 

“Calm down, Tommo,” Harry giggled. “I’ll schedule your car for a detail when we get back. Besides, if mango juice is the worst thing that ends up on your seats, I’ll be shocked.”

 

Louis couldn’t help it; his face flamed bright red. “Yeah, um, probably not,” he stammered, desperately trying to wade through his uncooperative and rather dirty brain for a substance that wasn’t completely X-rated.

 

He gave up finally and wondered if maybe Harry too had decided that two of them hooking up on this trip was rather inevitable.

 

It was an interesting thought to consider and Louis spent the next hour of the drive working himself into a rather uncomfortable state of arousal that he was lucky Harry had yet to notice.

 

Finally, Louis saw the turn off for their next destination and it was with relief that he turned the Mercedes carefully into the parking lot. He could definitely use a little physical exercise to distract him from how completely irresistible Harry was.

 

“What’s this?” Harry asked as they stepped out of the car, his boots skidding along the gravel.

 

“There’s this trail that runs along the beach,” Louis explained as he opened the trunk and pulled out an old worn pair of sneakers he’d stuffed near the back and handed them to Harry. “I brought these, unless,” Louis smirked, “you’d like to hike wearing your boots?”

 

Harry smiled at him like he’d just hung the moon in the sky. “Always take such good care of me, Lou,” he murmured as he unzipped his boots and tugged on the sneakers. He reached back into his bag and pulled out one of his headscarves.

 

“Help me?” he asked Louis, gesturing with scarf in his hands.

 

Louis hesitated, looking at the fabric and then up to Harry’s brown curls. He’d loved to twist the scarves in them when Harry had first discovered them. In fact, Harry’s first headscarf had been a gift from Louis. But in the last few months, really, ever since Louis had moved out, he hadn’t helped him once.

 

Now the thought of having his hands in Harry’s curls again had Louis’ fingers nearly trembling. He knew he shouldn’t do it. He wanted it too much—wanted _Harry_ too much.

 

“Please?” Harry tacked on, a flush on his cheeks, his dimple on full display, and Louis couldn’t resist anymore. He gently pulled the fabric from Harry’s hands and gestured for the boy to turn around.

 

Louis took an unsteady breath and wove his fingers through Harry’s hair. It was soft and springy and absolutely heavenly. “Lou,” Harry groaned softly. “Feels so good.”

 

Carefully he twisted the fabric around Harry’s head and secured it in the back with a firm knot. Louis knew he was technically finished but he wanted more. He wanted to keep his hands in Harry’s hair, _on_ Harry, but he didn’t have a reason to. Reluctantly, he knew he had to let Harry go, but on a wild whim, he pulled Harry close for just a second, dropping the quickest, briefest kiss he could on the crown of his curls. Closing his eyes at the warmth spreading through him, Louis finally released Harry from his grip.

 

By the time Harry turned around, Louis was already busying himself in the back of the car, pulling out his own pair of rubbish sneakers, both desperate to see Harry’s expression and terrified that it would be full of regret or rejection.

 

“Let’s go,” Louis said, after he tugged his own sneakers on. He grabbed a snapback from the backseat of the car and locked the doors behind as he and Harry set out on the trail.

 

The Cowell-Purisima Trail, as it was called, wound nearly three miles along the cliffs that overlooked the ocean. Louis had read quite a few reports that insisted it was a view not to be missed, and as they walked along the trail, he had to admit they’d all been right.

 

They didn’t talk much, but unlike Louis’ fear, it didn’t feel like an uncomfortable silence—more of an awed quiet because neither of them wanted to disturb the beauty they were seeing with words.

 

It was still warm for September, and by the time they reached the end of the trail, the back of Louis’ neck and his t-shirt were both damp with sweat.

 

“This is beautiful, Lou,” Harry murmured as he lifted Louis’ phone to take yet another picture of the coastline. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

 

Louis shrugged self-consciously. He might done the right thing by planning and bringing Harry on his trip, but he could no longer believe his motives were so innocent. Maybe deep down, he’d known that Harry wasn’t completely straight and might not be adverse to starting something with Louis.

 

Maybe Louis had dragged Harry out here by himself so that he could finally have what he’d wanted for so long.

 

But then again, that little voice in Louis’ head whispered back, maybe Harry wanted it just as much as Louis had.

 

“We should take a selfie,” Harry insisted and Louis couldn’t help the big smile that spread over his cheeks.

 

“With me, huh?” Louis teased. “I thought you only took selfies with famous people.”

 

Harry shot Louis a look. “You know how awful most celebrities are. You’re a saint by comparison.”

 

Louis giggled as he slotted himself into Harry’s side and gazed up at the phone in Harry’s outstretched hand. “Babe, I’m hardly a saint.”

 

Harry took the picture right then and when they looked at it, Louis burst into laughter. “Look!” he exclaimed. “We’re both smirking. I love this picture. Make sure you send it to me.”

 

Harry’s smirk deepened. “Your phone _, babe_.”

 

Louis couldn’t help the blush that spread over his cheeks. “Right, right. That _is_ my phone.”

 

“You’re so cute,” Harry said, and Louis decided this would be a really, really great time to make sure that he and Harry had at least a few inches separating them. Close was good and all but he was still making a token effort at controlling himself and when Harry was gazing at him like that, his eyes literally twinkling, it was difficult.

 

Of course, on their hike back to the car, Harry reached for Louis’ hand and before Louis could even realize what was happening, he’d laced their fingers together, their damp palms sliding against each other. He must have glanced up in Harry in something like shock because there was concern hiding in Harry’s eyes.

 

“Is this okay?” Harry finally asked, lifting their hands.

 

Harry’s hand was firm and warm and _big_ , nearly completely enveloping Louis’ much smaller one. He’d known Harry had huge hands, of course, but he’d never realized just how much they would dwarf his. And Louis knew he’d be lying if he told Harry he didn’t like it.

 

“No, it’s good,” Louis admitted and hoped the reassuring smile he gave Harry was enough to comfort any worries the younger boy had.

 

“Good,” Harry said about ten minutes later, as if he’d been contemplating this statement for all that time, “because I’ve been wanting to do it for awhile.”

 

The lump in Louis’ throat surprised him, but there it was and he had to swallow hard to banish it. “Me too,” he added softly.

 

\-----

 

When they finally got back to the car and reluctantly had to let go of each other, it was almost six. “Where to next?” Harry asked as they buckled up. “Where are we staying tonight?”

 

“We’ve got one more stop before we get to where we’re staying,” Louis explained as he pulled back out onto 101. “It’s not far from here. I’ve been told it’s a great place to watch the sunset.”

 

“Sounds perfect.” Harry’s hair was damp with sweat and pulled back from his face, but Louis had never seen him look so happy. It was a heady thought that Louis might have something to do with Harry’s glow.

 

An hour later, they reached Half-Moon Bay. The sky had been slowly darkening, but Louis checked his phone. “I think we’ve got just enough time to get to the lookout spot.”

 

Harry gave a playful groan that Louis was sure he hadn’t meant to go straight to his dick—but it did anyway. “No more physical activity,” he whined, though Louis didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips tilted up in a tiny grin. “I’m a musician, _Lewis._ I can’t be expected to perform this way.”

 

Louis laughed. “You say that now, Harold. But I bet you could be convinced.”

 

Harry’s look was absolutely unapologetically sexual as he looked Louis up and down, his gaze lingering at his legs, outlined in his black skinny jeans. “Absolutely, I could.”

 

Louis blushed, but he still held out his hand in Harry’s direction. “You coming, big shot?”

 

The awe on Harry’s face was too good to miss and Louis nearly tripped over an exposed root on the path as their fingers tangled together like they’d done this a thousand times already.

 

“You okay, boo?” Harry asked sweetly.

 

Louis tightened his fingers around Harry’s. “I’m going to regret ever telling you that nickname, aren’t I?”

 

“I kind of thought you already did,” Harry said, laughing lightly—but then they walked around a bend lined with trees and he froze at the incredible skyscape laid out in front of them.

 

The edge of the cliff jutted into the ocean and in front of them was one of the most breathtaking sunsets that Louis had ever seen. They walked together to the edge in almost a trance-like state, not saying a word, but gripping their hands together tightly.

 

There was a bench perfectly situated on the path and luckily for them, it was unoccupied. As Louis glanced around them, he realized that amazingly, there wasn’t another soul here to witness the beauty in front of them.

 

They were totally alone.

 

Louis began to sweat a little with how much he wanted and how it was so close within his grasp that he could practically taste it.

 

They sat down on the bench, hands still tangled together.

 

“Do you want a pic?” Louis asked as the sky changed from blood orange to crimson to the deepest, darkest velvety purple.

 

Harry just shook his head. “I’d never be able to capture it,” he said. “Besides,” he turned to Louis, “I’ve got the only person I want to share it with right next to me.”

 

Louis couldn’t help his blush. “I feel the same way,” he murmured. “For a long time, actually. But I thought it was. . .hopeless, I guess.”

 

Harry leaned closer, resting his head on Louis’ shoulder, even though he had a good few inches on Louis. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. If I’d known, we wouldn’t be here now, watching this.” Louis felt like he was moving too slowly, like he was submerged underwater, but then his lips brushed Harry’s once, then twice, and they burned with the desire to take more and more and more until all he could hear or taste or feel was Harry.

 

Harry surged forward and pressed his lips to Louis’ more insistently, his hands reaching down to cradle Louis’ cheeks in his palms.

 

Louis nibbled on Harry’s bottom lip and swallowed his little groan, reaching in with his tongue and brushing it against Harry’s. The kiss deepened and lengthened, and even though Louis had spent two years dreaming about kissing Harry and more, the reality blew even his most extravagant fantasies out of the water. Harry’s mouth was firm and luscious and moved with confidence and so much desire that Louis could practically feel it thrumming through his veins.

 

Finally, Harry lifted his mouth off Louis’, but it too quick. Louis didn’t want it to be over so fast. He wanted their first kiss to linger and spin out, until their lips were sore and chapped.

 

“We’re missing the sunset,” Harry whispered into Louis’ mouth.

 

Louis decided it was time to lay all his feelings on the table, too. Harry had done it twice already—once last night and then again today in the car. It was his turn. “I’ve got everything I want, right here,” he whispered. “Don’t need anything else.”

 

Harry’s fingers tightened in his hair. “Do you really mean that?”

 

“Of course I mean it,” Louis insisted softly.

 

“But last night. . .” Harry admitted. “Last night you. . . .you didn’t seem to.”

 

“I was a little surprised,” Louis said. “I knew there was something up with you, but I didn’t know what. I was not expecting that you were gay or that you liked me.”

 

“I shouldn’t have told you that part. Me liking you,” Harry clarified with a flush creeping up his cheekbones. “But I wanted to so much. It just made everything so complicated.”

 

Louis brushed Harry’s lips with the pad of his thumb. “This is complicated?” he asked as Harry shuddered into his touch.

 

“So complicated,” Harry confessed. “But I don’t regret it.”

 

“I don’t either.”

 

“Even if I can’t come out?” Harry asked, the question leaving an ache in Louis’ throat. He cleared it.

 

“We need to figure out whatever this is, before you can even tackle that,” Louis finally said. “Maybe we can do that on this trip.”

 

Harry’s voice was hushed and reverent. “I’d like that,” he said. “I’d like that very much.” And then he leaned forward and kissed Louis again, determination obvious in every angle of his lips on Louis’.

 

They didn’t break apart until it was fully dark. “I think we missed the rest of the sunset,” Louis giggled as they walked back to the car, hand in hand again.

 

“Best sunset I’ve ever seen,” Harry declared, his voice light and happy—happier than Louis could ever remember hearing it.

 

\----

 

Through the dark, Louis drove them closer to their destination for the night. Harry was curled up in his seat, but instead of facing the window, he was facing Louis.

 

“You shouldn’t sit that way,” Louis protested when he’d shifted to the position originally. “It’s not really safe. What if we crash?”  


“You’d better not crash then,” Harry had retorted with a warm smile.

 

“Well, it’s not easy. You’re a little distracting,” Louis admitted.

 

“Just a little?” Harry stuck out his lower lip in a pout that ended up being far more enticing than it had any right to be. Louis wanted to capture it between his lips and nibble gently on it until Harry moaned into his mouth.

 

Louis gripped the steering wheel with hands that were no longer completely steady. “Okay. More than a little.”

 

A few more miles swept by on the odometer. “You’re staring,” Louis finally said. “And that is _really_ distracting.”

 

“Sorry,” Harry said, clearly not sorry at all because his eyes didn’t move off Louis at all. “You’re just so beautiful.”

 

Louis let out a short bark of laughter. “Hardly.”

 

Harry extended a hesitant hand towards Louis, stroking down the short hair that was probably unpleasantly matted to the back of his neck after their hike and then their extended makeout session. But Harry didn’t seem to notice or to mind, he just kept stroking. Louis wanted to close his eyes and arch into Harry’s hand, but unfortunately he was still driving.

 

“You’re wrong, you know,” Harry finally said softly. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

 

Louis didn’t laugh this time. Maybe it was the nearly hypnotic croon of Harry’s voice. Maybe it was the sincerity emanating from it. Louis still didn’t _completely_ believe, but it did feel good that Harry seemed to genuinely think he was beautiful. It was what every man would want their crush to say about them.

 

Except Louis knew that his feelings for Harry had long since veered way past crush and into love territory. Today more than ever.

 

“Oh, look!” Harry exclaimed, pointing ahead of the car, as if Louis wasn’t already keeping his eyes glued to the road. “The Golden Gate Bridge!”

 

It was light up, shining like beacon in the bay. “Is that where we’re staying tonight?” Harry asked excitedly.

 

“On the bridge?” Louis joked. “That might be a little cold, babe.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, the lights of the bridge flashing across his lovely face. “I meant in San Francisco, dummy.”

 

“Yep. Well, technically it’s in Sausalito. But I hope you do like the view. You’re going to be seeing a lot of it,” Louis trailed off teasingly.

 

“Can we see the bridge from where we’re staying?” Louis hadn’t heard Harry be so enthusiastic about anything in awhile and gave himself another mental pat on the back for knowing that once Harry saw the bridge, he’d want to see so much more of it.

 

“Twenty questions tonight, aren’t you, love?” Louis asked, glancing down at the GPS app on his phone. “Be patient, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”

 

When Louis pulled into the long circular drive of Cavallo Point, he immediately glanced over at Harry to see his reaction.

 

“Louis,” Harry exhaled on a shaky breath. “This is. . .just. . . _wow_.”

 

The huge historical building rose out of the hillside, covered in glowing lights. Harry turned to Louis. “Is this one of the . . .special places?”

 

“Yes,” Louis said simply.

 

Louis let the valet take the keys to the Mercedes, but they lifted their own bags and walked inside the soaring lobby. Louis had already done his research and, with Harry’s preferences in mind, had already reserved a certain type of room.

 

As they approached the reception desk, Louis watched as Harry morphed from “Harry Styles, his friend and quite possibly more” into “Harry Styles, Popstar.”

 

It was always an interesting phenomena to witness, Louis thought. Harry stood a little straighter, walked with more authority, tossed his hair back and let everyone see his face. Let everyone recognize him.

 

He’d already gotten a few interested glances by the time they reached the desk, but Louis knew the instant the clerk recognized him. She did a double take and then kept on staring. “Reservation for Tomlinson,” Harry said smoothly. They’d done this so many times before, it felt a bit like déjà vu to Louis, but then almost nothing about this was really, truly normal.

 

The clerk was flustered but she still did her job adequately, only giving Louis a handful of curious looks, clearly deciding he was the “Tomlinson.”

 

Harry handed her his credit card and Louis almost put up a token protest, but Harry only had to give a single, quelling glance. They’d done this maybe a hundred times before—Louis making reservations and Harry paying for them—but not once before had it felt like a date. Probably, Louis thought with a smirk, because they’d never checked in with Harry’s lips swollen and pink from kissing Louis.

 

Louis decided it was a really good look on Harry and that he wouldn’t mind seeing it quite a bit in the future.

 

The clerk slid two keys across the desk and then pulled out a map, gesturing to a building or two, before going to return to her computer. Louis watched as Harry slid his hand out of his pocket and extended it towards her. She probably thought he was just going to shake her hand in thanks for the help, but Louis, familiar with this gesture of Harry’s, knew what she’d find—a few hundred dollar bills folded neatly in Harry’s palm.

 

She glanced up in surprise and Harry gave her a little shushed motion. “It’ll be easier if people don’t know I’m here,” he explained softly. “If you don’t mind.”

 

“Of course. Of course,” she babbled, clearly a bit taken aback by the gesture. No doubt the money would not only ensure her silence on social media but might also guarantee that she didn’t go blabbing around that Harry Styles had just checked into a hotel room, a _king_ hotel room with a deck and a view of the Golden Gate Bridge—a view that more than one individual might qualify as “romantic”—with another man.

 

The room itself wasn’t spectacular by any means. Louis wasn’t really a fan of the restored rustic country look, no matter how clean and well-kept it looked. He preferred clean and modern, thank you very much—but the view made up for all the room’s deficiencies.

 

Harry set his bag down on the small sofa and immediately went to the sliding door, walking out onto the deck and staring up at the glowing Golden Gate Bridge. The view, Louis decided as he joined him, was just about as amazing as the concierge had made it out to be on the phone when he’d phoned the week before.

 

 “Is this good?” Louis asked softly, wanting desperately to wrap his arms around Harry, but he wasn’t entirely certain where the two of them stood. Yes, they’d kissed, but Louis wasn’t sure what “figuring things out” meant to Harry.

 

And Harry looked so beautiful, his hands resting on the wooden railing of the deck, as flawless as the architecture he couldn’t take his eyes off of. Sure the bridge was nice, Louis thought, but he’d rather stare at Harry any day. Especially when he could do so unobserved.

 

Harry’s complete absorption with the view didn’t last nearly as long as Louis expected it would. Only a minute or so in, Harry turned to find Louis, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Why are you all the way over there?” Harry asked.

 

Louis shrugged. “Not sure what you wanted,” he said. They’d kind of gotten into this mess by not being straight with each other. It was scary to be completely honest—terrifying really, to face his own feelings head on and potentially show Harry every single card he’d hidden close to his chest—but the alternative was losing him and that was so much worse.

 

Harry’s gaze softened, his eyes glowing like emeralds in the dim light of the bridge. “I told you already. _You_.” He extended a hand towards Louis and curled it around his waist, resting it gently but with certainty around Louis’ hips.

 

“Isn’t this better?” Harry asked, leaning down and tucking his face into the curve of Louis’ neck. For a moment, he just rested there, his nose cold against Louis’ skin.

 

“I’m still getting used to the idea, honestly,” Louis confessed. “It feels a bit like a dream.”

 

Harry hummed in agreement, then one of his hands tangled in Louis’ hair at his neck, tilting his lips until they met Harry’s.

 

They’d begun to learn each other at Half-Moon Bay. Louis had discovered that Harry clearly liked having his hair played with, and now he tangled his fingers in it, twisting the strands and tugging gently, then a little bit harder, until Harry was practically moaning into Louis’ mouth.

 

Harry’s hand slid lower and if Louis’ hadn’t been quite so kiss drunk, he might have not have been so surprised when his fingers curved around Louis’ bum and pulled him in even closer to Harry.

 

The kiss went from great to spectacular and after a few electrically charged moments where time seemed to crawl as slow as molasses, Louis finally broke away. He was panting, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, blood pumping wildly through his system, every nerve ending alight with the thought of _Harry, Harry, Harry_. “Wow,” he said, almost more to himself than to the man next to me.

 

“I thought about this a lot,” Harry said slowly, “but it’s so much better. And I thought I had a pretty good imagination.”

 

Louis desperately wanted to know more about these fantasies of Harry’s. Wanted to know what he looked like naked on his bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other tight around his cock, thrusting into the ring of his fingers as the thought of his mouth on Louis’ made him come.

 

“I knew kissing you would be amazing,” Louis admitted. “But yeah, the reality does rather eclipse even the fantasy.”

 

Harry’s fingers tightened on Louis’ ass and Louis nearly hoped that Harry had just had a similar vision. “Maybe it’s the scenery,” Harry suggested with a tiny smirk in Louis’ direction. “I mean, that sunset was pretty spectacular. And now this.”

 

“Is that what you think?” Louis asked, not hurt, merely curious. “It’s just the romance of the moment?” He’d wondered that himself. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine the trappings of their trip creating a far more charged atmosphere than they might normally experience together. It wasn’t what Louis _wanted_ to think, but he was trying to approach this objectively, no matter how difficult that was.

 

“No.” Harry said it confidently and openly and Louis was blown away yet again by the change in him since he’d been able to be honest. Louis couldn’t help but wonder what Harry might be like if he let himself be honest with the world; personally, Louis thought he’d be a sight to behold.

 

 “Me either,” Louis said.

 

They cuddled on the deck for half an hour more, kissing some more, but mostly absorbing the gorgeous view, but then Louis started to get cold, shivering against even Harry’s warmer skin, and Harry insisted they go inside.

 

“Let’s just order room service,” Harry suggested. “I don’t want to leave the room.” Louis wanted to think that he didn’t want to leave the room and have to pretend they weren’t together in some capacity, which they would definitely have to do in any of the resort’s restaurants.

 

Whether that was the real reason for Harry’s suggestion or not, Louis still readily agreed, and they perused the menu. “I’m going to take a shower,” Louis announced after Harry had called in their order.

 

“Don’t even think about stealing all the hot water,” Harry called back, so much like how he’d used to behave before everything got weird between them and Louis had moved out. He’d missed their dynamic and it was almost mind-boggling to imagine that they could have both: the rock solid friendship and amazing comradery they’d experienced from literally the very first moment they’d met _and_ the incredible sexual chemistry that Louis had felt while kissing Harry.

 

How many couples got that lucky, Louis wondered as he shampooed his hair. He had to remind himself again that they might not even have a chance to _be_ a real couple, even though he had definitely gotten to the point of admitting to himself that that was the end result he most wanted. He wanted to be with Harry tomorrow and the next day and in a year and in ten years. Louis honestly couldn’t even imagine wanting any one person in his life more than he wanted Harry.

 

Out of the shower, Louis quickly towel dried his hair and threw on an old shirt and a pair of pajama pants. When he walked back out of the bathroom, Harry was on the bed, clicking through the pay-per-view movie options. “Food should be here any minute,” Harry said, sliding off the bed. “Just charge it to the room.”

 

Louis grinned stupidly at him. “Are you trying to buy my affections, love?”

 

Harry leaned in and gave Louis a quick smacking kiss. “Already got them, babe,” he called back as he sauntered into the bathroom, leaving Louis feeling as light and happy as if he’d just swallowed helium.

 

Room service came and went and Harry emerged from the shower, damp hair and warm, flushed skin, looking so unfairly gorgeous that Louis prided himself on the fact that he didn’t just tackle him into the bed.

 

They ate dinner in bed, cuddled up with pillows and blankets, watching a movie. Louis had wondered if they’d actually end up watching the movie, but they had, surprisingly—and he’d even been _glad._ He’d missed cuddling and just hanging out with Harry as much as he’d wanted _more_.

 

As the movie credits rolled, Harry had tightened his arm around Louis’ shoulders and Louis had glanced up at him. The smile on Harry’s face was sweetly possessive. “What are we doing tomorrow?” he asked drowsily.

 

“A lighthouse, I think,” Louis mumbled. “And I wondered how you’d feel about us going to Napa? Or Sonoma, I guess, is what’s closest.”

 

“Wine tasting?” Harry asked.

 

“Yeah, there’s a number of really nice wineries. If you’re interested.” Louis hadn’t made a reservation at any of the boutique hotels he’d discovered in the Sonoma Valley because even at the time, a trip to Napa felt more like a romantic getaway than a bro-pal road trip. But now, so much had changed between them that Louis _wanted_ to err on the side of the former.

 

“I think we should,” Harry said and that was that. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, and Louis considered getting up and turning the lights off. He was maybe only a few minutes away from a drowsy sleep, but he felt so warm and coddled—the best he’d felt in ages. He never wanted to move.

 

“Hey Lou,” Harry asked softly, “would it be okay if I used my laptop?”

 

Louis opened his eyes and gazed up at Harry. “Why wouldn’t it be? You don’t need my permission.”

 

Harry shrugged awkwardly. “I’m supposed to be staying away from that stuff.”

 

“True.” Louis contemplated. “What for?”

 

“Wanna look up some stuff for tomorrow, if that’s alright?”

 

“Sure. I’m tired though,” Louis mumbled into Harry’s arm. “Turn the light off, Haz?”

 

Harry’s hand slipped down and tilted Louis’ chin up towards his. “Kiss first.”

 

It was a simple kiss, soft and quick, but Louis didn’t think he could ever get used to the warm, firm pressure of Harry’s lips on his. Even as he drifted off to sleep, he could feel them.

 

\-----

 

The next morning, Louis woke up feeling better than he had in a very long time, even though technically the bed was empty. He heard Harry in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a toilet flushing, and he was treated to the incredibly delectable sight of Harry emerging, sleepy-eyed and sleep-rumpled, with only a pair of sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. His entire, ridiculously long torso was on full display, all tattoos and firm muscles and Louis had to swallow hard at how much he wanted to _touch_.

 

But even though they’d kissed multiple times yesterday, they’d kept things relatively tame, as if they were both a little afraid to take it a step farther. Louis had his own reasons for hesitating, but he could only guess at Harry’s. Probably another conversation they were going to have to have and one Louis wasn’t sure he was looking forward to, unless it resulted in him _finally_ being able to have Harry the way he’d dreamed about.

 

“Sleep well?” Harry asked, settling on the edge of the bed. Louis wasn’t sleepy enough not to notice that he’d deliberately not climbed back into the bed. Which was definitely smart, but maybe not quite as much fun as Louis wanted.

 

“Like a rock,” Louis admitted, climbing out of bed after waiting a few moments for his morning erection to flag a little. But Harry had already turned to his duffle and was sorting through clothes.

 

Louis followed suit and they dressed quickly, agreeing to get breakfast on the road. They swung through a McDonalds drive-thru and Louis made a comment about bread crumbs all over his upholstery.

 

“Oh, Lou,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “I already promised you a thorough detail job, didn’t I?”

 

“True,” Louis said, pulling onto the highway, “but this is my _baby_.”

 

Harry’s grin was impossibly dimpled. “I’m glad you enjoy it so much.”

 

Louis shot Harry a look. “It’s the most amazing gift anyone’s ever given me. You know that.”

 

“Yes.” Harry’s dimples deepened. “But I do like hearing you say it.”

 

It was about an hour’s drive to the Point Reyes Lighthouse. Louis pulled into the parking lot.

 

“I don’t see any lighthouse,” Harry said, craning his neck as he looked around.

 

“This is also called the ‘Divine Descent,’” Louis said smugly. “It’s actually 308 steps down to where the lighthouse is.”

 

“That doesn’t sound divine at all,” Harry said, sticking out his lower lip.

 

“Too bad, popstar, we’re doing it.”

 

“Fine, _boo bear_ ,” Harry retorted with another dimpled grin.

 

“Will I _never_ stop regretting telling you that nickname?” Louis said with a groan.

 

“Probably not.”

 

\-----

 

They climbed down all three hundred and eight steps holding hands.

 

Harry admitted the lighthouse was beautiful and even worth the hike down. At the gift shop, he bought a souvenir magnet. “To commemorate the only time I’ve ever really seen you break a sweat,” Harry said when they were finally back in the car.

 

“I understand now why they call the descent ‘divine,’” Louis moaned. “They don’t want to tell you what the trip up feels like.”

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t realize you were going to have to climb back up all those steps,” Harry said, still laughing. “You were _so_ smug on the way down.”

 

“Temporary delusion,” Louis moaned again. “Never let me do that again.”

 

Louis turned to look at Harry just in time to see his face soften, his expression becoming unbearably fond. As if Harry wanted this, wanted to stay around, in exactly this capacity, for a rather long time.

 

“Where to next?” Harry asked as the Pacific Ocean flashed by their windows.

 

“I’m going to need some kind of sustenance after that little adventure. And then onto Sonoma, I guess.” Louis glanced over at Harry again, even though the hairpin turns on this particular route had him a little nervous. “Any direction I should be specifically heading?”

 

“I might have made some reservations at a few wineries and at a hotel. The hotel’s in Forestville,” Harry admitted sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay.”

 

“Of course it’s okay,” Louis insisted.

 

“But you planned this trip. It’s really _your_ trip.”

 

“Harry,” Louis said patiently, “I planned it for _you_. So if you want to do something, we’ll do it.”

 

Harry smiled. “Well, maybe I planned something for _you_.”

 

It was a hard thing to get used to—the celebrity treating _Louis_ as if he were the most important person in the world. It was a dynamic shift that Louis didn’t think he could ever expect, though Harry was unflinchingly consistent about it.

 

And maybe that fact alone should have made Louis suspect that Harry had been harboring feelings for him all along. He’d seen plenty of celebrity-personal assistant relationships during his time in LA and none of them had been even remotely like the one he shared with Harry. Louis hadn’t though—hadn’t even wanted to let himself go down that particular rabbit hole. He could only wonder now how much time the two of them had potentially wasted.

 

“You make me so happy,” Louis confessed in a rush, determined to be honest with Harry and not let him slip away if he could prevent it. “And not just the kissing.”

 

Harry gave Louis a shy look. “I really like the kissing though.” He paused. “And I’m sure I’d like more, too.”

 

Louis’ fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Can we have this conversation maybe when I’m not driving?”

 

Harry laughed, dissipating the tension before it could even build. “Afraid of a little distraction?”

 

Of course he was. He was also afraid of not having his full attention on Harry, and of saying the wrong thing. This was too important to risk making a mistake that he could prevent. But that felt like a bit _much_ to confess, so Louis just said, “the turns on this section can be really tight, or so the guides said.”

 

“Okay,” Harry said simply, “but don’t think I’m forgetting about it.”

 

“Trust me,” Louis insisted, “I won’t be forgetting about it either.” He didn’t think that was actually physically possible. The image of even Harry’s _half-_ naked body was branded into his brain. And Louis wanted to do so much more than just _look_. He wanted to touch and taste and watch as Harry fell apart underneath him.

 

About an hour up from the lighthouse, they passed a cute little seafood shack on the side of the road, promising fresh, fried seafood and that was all the reason Louis needed to pull into the gravel lot.

 

“Really, Lou?” Harry asked in a teasing voice. “Fried, _again_?”

 

“Harold, are you saying I’m fat?” Louis announced loudly as they walked past the picnic tables and up to the ordering window.

 

Harry reached for Louis’ hand and gripped it tightly in his. As Louis stared up at the menu, Harry seemed to be staring at him instead. “You have to know,” Harry finally said, his tone soft and reverent. “I mean, I can’t believe you don’t know how gorgeous you are.”

 

Blushing, Louis tugged on Harry’s hand and tried to change the subject. “Figure out what you want for lunch, Haz.”

 

“Fine,” Harry said, letting out an exaggerated, heavy sigh. “But this is another conversation we need to continue. I won’t let you put me off much longer.”

 

“What about the fried shrimp?” Louis continued as if Harry hadn’t said a word.

 

After they ordered and grabbed one of the picnic tables that overlooked the ocean, Louis was very sure that Harry would want to re-start those conversations immediately, but to Louis’ surprise, Harry just sat back on the bench and studied Louis as if he was the most fascinating creature he’d ever seen.

 

“I really can’t figure you out,” Harry finally confessed and Louis glanced over towards him surprise.

 

“I mean,” Harry continued, “do you really not know the effect you have?”

 

Louis didn’t have a freaking clue what Harry was talking about. He’d never believed that Harry was particularly affected by him before.

 

“You really don’t, do you?” Harry sounded completely mystified. “Do you realize the first time I saw you, I wanted to drag you to the loo in that Starbucks and fuck you up against the wall?”

 

Louis choked on the beer he’d been just taking a sip of. “ _What_?” he exclaimed. “What the fuck, Harry?”

 

“Why do you think I hired you?” Harry challenged right back.

 

“You hired me because you wanted to fuck me? That seems a little counter-productive.” Louis couldn’t believe they were actually having this conversation. Rather, Harry seemed to be having the conversation mostly on his own, because Louis was too shocked to participate.

 

“Actually, no. I mean, I _did_.” His voice dropped to the lowest, sexiest register that Louis had ever heard. “I _do_. But you were so fucking beautiful, even though you were clearly scared out of your mind and all alone. I wanted to latch onto you and never let go. I wanted to save you.”

 

Louis knew that Harry had saved him. At least he’d extended a hand and given Louis the chance he needed. But Louis also liked to believe that he’d saved himself, too. “I was hardly a damsel in distress,” Louis shot back.

 

Harry gaped at him. “ _That’s_ what you got out of that? That you were a damsel in distress?”

 

“I mean,” Louis corrected hurriedly, “I heard the rest too. Maybe we should focus on those parts instead.”

 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Harry smirked. “Like thinking about being fucked against the wall, do you?”

 

Louis let his gaze wander to Harry’s biceps, exposed in his t-shirt, and let himself wonder. It was a very good thought and had him sweating a little at just how good their sexual compatibility might be. “You’d do a credible job,” Louis squeaked out, hating how high and nasally his voice sounded. How fucking _wrecked_ he already sounded, as if Harry had already done the fucking.

 

“Maybe,” Harry said, so casually that Louis couldn’t help but do a double take.

 

“Wait,” Louis said. “ _Wait_. You have, you know. _Fucked_.”

 

“You mean, cause I’ve been closeted?”

 

Louis could only nod his head dumbly. In the last two days, the thought that Harry might be a virgin had never even crossed his mind. Louis hadn’t had an enormous opportunity for sexual experimentation in Doncaster as a teenager, but there’d been enough, and then there’d been trips to London, to the gay clubs. He couldn’t even really remember the guy he’d lost his virginity to, it had been so many years ago. But Harry—Harry wouldn’t have had those opportunities, having come over to LA so young and then being closeted so tightly.

 

Harry took a deep breath. “Yes. And no. I mean I’ve done. . .stuff with guys. But I guess I’d technically be considered a virgin.”

 

“Harry. . .” Louis started out softly, sympathetically, but Harry cut him right off. “Please don’t pity me,” Harry insisted. “I could have, if I wanted to. More than once. I just. . .I didn’t want it to be with some random guy. I wanted . . .” Harry took a deep breath. “I wanted it to be special, which is probably stupid. Really, I wanted it to be you, which was definitely stupid.”

 

Louis felt the breath in his chest catch. Harry hadn’t just had _some_ feelings for him, then. He’d been just as gone as Louis himself, and just as stuck. The thought made him want to laugh and cry, all at the same time.

 

“Wanted?” Louis had to ask.

 

The look in Harry’s eyes was so determined. “Want. Definitely _want_.”

 

Of course, that was the moment the number for their food order was called, and Harry was standing and walking over to the little shack before Louis could answer.

 

They ate in silence, a pile of shrimp tails piling up in the middle of the table. Finally, Louis looked up from his paper plate to see Harry staring intently at him, his fingers shredding the label on his bottle of beer. “What are you thinking?” Harry asked softly.

 

Louis sighed. “A lot of things. I kind of want to kill Liam and your management. I can’t help but wish you had had the opportunities I had as a teenager. And I really hate how much time we’ve both wasted.”

 

Harry’s breath stuttered. “You. . . you really mean that? Even if I can’t come out?”

 

“Harry,” Louis said patiently, “I’ve been hopeless for you since the moment we met. And yeah, the situation isn’t ideal, but figuring something out that we can both live with has to be better than living without each other, like we’ve been doing.”

 

Harry froze for a long moment and stared right into Louis’ face, green eyes so wide and so bright that Louis felt like he was practically permanently blinded. Then Harry suddenly took one huge hand and inexplicably swiped off all the shrimp tails into one of the paper baskets, grabbed their empty bottles in his other hand and was over at the rubbish bin before Louis could even react.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Harry?” Louis asked in exasperation. “Where are you even going in such a hurry?”

 

“Car now,” Harry said, nearly panting and Louis looked closer, taking in his wild expression. “Car _now_.”

 

“Seriously,” Louis called out, nearly jogging to keep up with Harry’s fast pace to where the car was parked.

 

When Louis reached the car, Harry already had the back door open and had slid inside. Louis glanced in from the doorway and saw Harry sprawled on the leather seats, eyes hot as they swept up Louis’ body. “You getting in?” Harry drawled.

 

“Harry,” Louis said, his self-control wearing dangerously thin.

 

“Louis, if you don’t get in this car in five seconds . . .” Harry warned with a devilish grin.

 

Louis did want it. He wanted it so much, had wanted it for years, and to resist now was going to take a kind of superhuman strength that Louis just didn’t have. But at the same time, he absolutely knew that Harry deserved better than a quick shag in the backseat of a car. He _wanted_ to give Harry more.

 

He climbed into the backseat with Harry, pulling the door closed behind him. “You realize,” Louis said, huffing a little as Harry wrapped his ridiculously long arms around his body and pulled Louis closer, “that it is literally the middle of the day and we are currently in a rather public parking lot?”

 

“Even better,” Harry said, his voice low and insistent, sending hot pulses of need through Louis’ veins. “Want you, Lou,” he whispered against Louis’ lips. “Want you more than anything.”

 

Louis pulled back a tiny bit, until he could see Harry’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks. “Want you too,” he admitted, reaching up and stroking Harry’s curls. “But I want more for you than something rushed and fumbled in the backseat of a car.”

 

Harry let out a frustrated whine. “I know, baby, I know,” Louis soothed, his hand shifting to rub Harry’s neck. “Soon. Tonight, I promise.”

 

Slumping down further in the seat, Harry gave a reluctant nod. “Alright.” He paused, letting out a deep sigh. “But I need at least five kisses before we leave this parking lot.”

 

“Five?” Louis asked, arching his eyebrow. “That seems awfully generous.”

 

Harry’s answer was to pull him in closer and attach his lips to Louis’. “One,” Harry mumbled into Louis’ mouth, nibbling on his lower lip.

 

\---

 

It took almost three hours to cut inland and get to Sonoma. “You should let me drive,” Harry had whined. “I feel so useless just sitting here.”

 

“But you’re in charge of music,” Louis pointed out. And Harry _had_ been helpful in that regard, adding a bunch of songs to the playlist that Louis had already created. Admittedly, some of them were Harry’s super hipster indie rock, but Louis had been happily placated with the addition of Beyoncé and Britney.

 

“I didn’t even get five kisses,” Harry said, crossing his arms across his chest and pasting a pout on his pretty mouth. It shouldn’t have been so cute, but Louis had long since come to terms with the fact that he was pathetically gone for Harry. It didn’t even matter if he was being a brat.

 

“You got five. They just weren’t _your_ version of five. If you’d gotten your way, we’d still be in that damn parking lot,” Louis pointed out. “Now, what’s the address for the first winery you made reservations at?”

 

Twenty minutes later, Louis turned into a long, palm-tree lined drive.

 

“This is it,” Harry exclaimed with excitement, his pouting long forgotten. “The website said they had palm trees. And this beautiful hacienda we could explore.”

 

“What about the wine?” Louis teased, glancing over at Harry and drinking in the happiness on his face. He didn’t think he would ever get used to Harry looking that way over something they were going to do _together_.

 

“I’m sure the wine is fine,” Harry said, waving a hand to dismiss Louis’ concern. “I mean, the other stuff is just the icing on the cake, right?”

 

“I’m sure it’s fine, babe,” Louis soothed. “Great first choice.”

“I emailed the tasting director,” Harry explained, “and I arranged a private tasting.”

 

“Look at you, name dropping like a real celebrity,” Louis teased as they got out of the car.

 

“I _am_ a real celebrity,” Harry insisted adorably, nose crinkling up as he shoved a hand through his hair, looking anything but a celebrity in his ripped jeans and ratty t-shirt, a pair of cheap aviator sunglasses covering his eyes.

 

“Well, let’s see what your celebrity gets us,” Louis said, wishing he could reach over and take Harry’s hand in his. But this was by far more public than any place they’d been in since leaving LA, and Harry still seemed determined to remain closeted.

 

Louis wasn’t sure what to think about that particular fact. Everything he’d said before to Harry, about his ex-boyfriend and always falling way down on his list because of his insistence on remaining in the closet, at least publicly, had been one hundred percent true. But Louis wasn’t certain if that _had_ been the real reason for their breakup. Maybe they would have been ultimately doomed anyway, and the closeting had been a convenient reason. He’d always been adamant before, which explained why Harry had been so afraid of getting involved, but Louis wanted Harry enough that he wasn’t sure he cared quite as much anymore.

 

He knew it wouldn’t be fun to be in a relationship with a closeted celebrity, but if Louis had learned one thing about the last two years, it was that he would take Harry however he could get him.

 

It turned out that Harry’s celebrity status got them quite a bit. The “private tasting” was held outside, on a hillside of the winery, with one of the winery’s top sommeliers and a view of the vineyard that took Louis’ breath away.

 

Louis didn’t know much about wine and he didn’t tend to drink it very often, but he’d do a thousand wine tastings if he could see tipsy Harry with flushed cheeks and wine-stained lips, adorably asking the sommelier question after question about the wine, trying to pretend that he was some kind of expert.

 

After the tasting and Harry spending in what was Louis’ humble opinion way too much money on wine, they decided to explore the crumbling hacienda that was on the winery property.

 

“Be careful, there’s some uneven bits of floor in some of the rooms,” the sommelier had advised, sending them off with a knowing smile on her face. She’d clearly figured them out, Louis thought, but with the alcohol bubbling through his veins, and Harry next to him, he found he couldn’t dredge up a reason to really care.

 

As soon as they were alone in one of the rooms, Louis pressed Harry up against one of the walls, his lips cruising along the tendons of Harry’s neck. “You are ridiculous and absolutely, completely adorable,” Louis murmured into Harry’s ear.

 

“Lou,” Harry whined again, his hips thrusting in stuttered movements. “Kiss me, _please_.”

 

Louis did, nibbling alongside the sensitive skin of Harry’s jaw and then finally found Harry’s lips with his own. Each kiss felt better than the last, and when Harry grabbed his bum and dragged him flush against the younger boy, Louis groaned into his mouth.

 

His cock was hard in his jeans, pressing up against the zipper and he couldn’t help the jerky movement he made against Harry’s hip. “Want you so much,” Harry gasped, breaking away from Louis’ mouth.

 

As desperate as Harry sounded, Louis felt twice as desperate. He’d tried so hard not to imagine what Harry would be like in bed, what they might be like together, but now it was impossible not to think about it _all the time_ because it wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. In reality, Louis had a feeling that the sex between them was going to be insanely amazing. He could barely wait to get Harry into bed and to take him apart over and over again until he was begging and pleading for relief.

 

“How far is it to the hotel?” Louis said, his own voice gone ragged.

 

“Maybe twenty minutes?” Harry offered, running his hands up and down Louis’ back under his t-shirt, the calloused pads of his fingers sending shivers of sensation along his skin.

 

“Stop that,” Louis snapped out, “I can’t fucking focus with you touching me.”

 

Harry grinned and didn’t stop at all. “It’s nice to think I can affect you as much as you affect me,” he said shyly.

 

“Yeah? You think?” Louis said, and he reached behind him, grabbing one of Harry’s arms and dragging it down, until it was directly over his hard cock. They both moaned at the feeling, Harry’s mouth dropping open as he felt Louis’ cock for the first time.

 

“If that was supposed to stop this,” Harry panted out, his words coming out slow and slurred, “it didn’t work very well.” He gave an experimental squeeze and Louis gritted his teeth. Harry’s hand was so good, both relieving and adding to the pressure building in his cock.

 

“We need to get to the hotel,” Louis tried insisting. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his breathing and clear his mind from the singular, _Harry, Harry, Harry, want, want, want_ that seemed to be its one coherent thought. “Seriously, Harry, we can’t do this here.”

 

Not unless Harry wanted rumors flying hard and fast from people walking in on them humping each other against the wall. And while Louis wouldn’t mind if _everyone_ knew, Harry had made it very clear that wasn’t what he wanted.

 

“Right,” Harry said, and this time he actually let go of Louis, turning away and readjusting himself in his jeans. Louis’ fingers itched to do it for him, but if they started that _at all_ , then they would never make it to the hotel. As it was, he knew their self-control was hanging by a thread.

 

“We didn’t even look at the rest of the hacienda,” Louis pointed out as they walked to the car.

 

Harry shot Louis a disbelieving look.

 

“Well, I thought I would just point that fact out,” Louis said with a sly grin. “You _were_ so excited about it, after all.”

 

“It’s a building. You’re Louis,” Harry explained as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Given a choice, there isn’t a choice.”

 

Once they were actually on the road, Harry navigating them to the hotel he’d made reservations at, Louis felt it was necessary to point out the one promise that he’d sworn to himself he would uphold. “You know,” he said, glancing over at where Harry was scrolling through the directions on Louis’ phone, “we haven’t talked about what you really want.”

 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, glancing up at Louis. “I want _you_.”

 

“I mean, I know you want to fuck me against the wall,” Louis said, amazed he could say that particular phrase so casually when even the thought turned the blood pumping through his veins into pure lightning. “But I don’t know what else.”

 

“You mean, if I want you to fuck me, too?” Harry asked, and Louis was completely endeared by the flush on his cheeks that he was fairly certain had nothing to do with the wine they’d drunk.

 

“Yes. That.”

 

“Yes. 100% yes,” Harry said, sounding a lot more eager than Louis had anticipated.

 

Actually, Louis hadn’t really anticipated that answer at all.

 

“Some guys don’t like it though, and that’s okay,” Louis said, trying to contain his excitement at the possibility that Harry might like it all kinds of ways, just like he did.

 

“I will,” Harry said with certainty.

 

“I think it would be better to take it a little slow,” Louis said, which had been the whole point of this discussion. He’d decided it was better to have it here, in the car, while he was driving and they didn’t have their hands all over each other. Maybe then he could really stick to the promise he’d made himself—that they wouldn’t rush things, that he wouldn’t rush _Harry_. After all, Harry was practically a virgin, a virgin in every way that counted, really. And Louis wanted it to be so good for him, a wonderful memory for him to keep even if they didn’t end up together.

 

The pout was back on Harry’s face. “What are you saying?” he asked.

 

“I mean, there’s lots of things we can do,” Louis said, glancing over to Harry with a heated look. “There’s no reason to rush anything.”

 

Harry looked disappointed but he agreed. The very last thing Louis wanted was for them to do something Harry wasn’t completely comfortable with and muck things up between them. Especially not when their sexual chemistry seemed to grow each time they kissed. Louis’ stomach muscles tensed and he tried to focus on not driving them off the road instead of how potentially explosive the sex between them was actually going to be.

 

\----

 

They reached the hotel ten minutes later.

 

“Um, Harry,” Louis said, as he pulled into the circular driveway, “are you sure this is where you want to stay?”

 

The thing was, Louis had become rather accustomed to nicer hotels over the last two years, because when he traveled with Harry, his management team usually took care of the reservations.

 

But there were nice hotels and then there was _this_ hotel.

 

Harry seemed absolutely certain though. “Yes,” he said, maybe a trifle recklessly as the valet opened his car door and he slid out. Louis didn’t wait for the valet and met Harry around the trunk, as he and the valet sorted out the bags.

 

“Harry,” Louis hissed under his breath after he’d handed his keys to the valet and he and Harry were walking up the front steps to the lobby, “this is _not_ the kind of place that you would book for you and your personal assistant. This is well. . .it’s _romantic_.”

 

Harry shot Louis an amused look. “I’d hope so, boo. And before you fret too much, I was promised completely anonymity. Trust me, we’ll be left alone.”

 

“If you’re sure . . .” Louis trailed off, suddenly so much more unsure of their footing. _This_ was what Harry had meant when he’d talked about planning something for him?  


“I’ve wanted to do this for two years,” Harry explained as they approached the reception desk. “Just let me take care of it. Let me take care of _you._ ”

 

Louis had done so much of the “taking care of” over the last two years that it had never occurred to him that Harry could do it just as well and he’d been _letting_ Louis handle everything. And Harry did, strolling up to the front desk, calm and collected, completely at ease with his celebrity and who he was. “Reservation for Styles,” he told the clerk and to her credit, she didn’t seem to even blink.

 

“Your suite is all ready for you, Mr. Styles,” she replied warmly. “Just as you requested.”

 

Harry glanced back at Louis, who’d deliberately hung back, not entirely certain where he stood in all this. He certainly didn’t want to give anyone the impression they were actually together, even though deep down, that was exactly what he wanted more than anything. “Last chance, Louis,” Harry said pointedly and Louis had to nod, flustered that Harry had so pointedly asked his opinion. The clerk couldn’t come to any other conclusion that they were here _together_.

 

Louis resolved that he’d have to talk to Harry again and make sure he understood exactly how gossip spread—starting with trips to resorts that were practically marketed for couples’ romantic getaways.

 

But when they reached their room, or their _suite_ , Louis mentally corrected, he forgot entirely about the conversation. He forgot all about his concerns and his worries and he nearly even forgot about his promise to himself that he’d take the sexual part of their relationship slow.

 

The room was littered with candles, ready to be lit once dusk fell, there were fresh flowers in delicate vases scattered on the flat surfaces, and if Louis wasn’t mistaken, there were very definitely white petals of some type dotting the fluffy white duvet.

 

Louis was still speechless when there was a discreet knock on the door. Harry opened the door and the valet came in with their bags, followed by another hotel employee pushing a cart. Louis’ jaw dropped more when he unloaded a tall silver bucket, filled with ice, and nestled a bottle of champagne inside it. He left two glasses on the dresser, and after Harry tipped him, murmured that the rest would be available whenever he requested it.

 

When they were finally alone again, Louis rounded on Harry. “ _What_ are you trying to do?” he squeaked out.

 

Harry’s cheeks flushed red. “Seduce you?” He reached for Louis’ hands, wrapping them in his own, and smirked. “Is it working?”

 

“Yes,” Louis admitted before common sense could override the love nearly overwhelming him.

 

Harry gave Louis a little tug towards the bed. “Then what are you doing over there still?”

 

That was a really good question. “I’m a little in shock still,” Louis couldn’t help but confess. “I can’t believe all this is for _me_.”

 

“Why wouldn’t all this be for you?” Harry asked, the space between his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.

 

Louis didn’t really want to come out and say it, but maybe it was worth saying. “You’re you,” he said slowly, “and I’m me.”

 

“Because I’m famous and you’re not?” Harry looked really surprised. “I thought you knew how stupid that is, Lou. I mean, you’re always telling me that I’m not any more important than anyone else.”

 

“I need to make sure you don’t get a big head,” Louis insisted defensively, slipping his shoes off. “It’s practically my job.”

 

Harry shot him a not-so-patient look. “Right now, your job is to get on this bed.”

 

Louis opened his mouth to say something, _anything_ , because he wasn’t really comfortable with the undeniable thrill that raced up his spine at Harry’s tone, but Harry simply said, “Now, Lou. Bed,” in a voice that brooked no arguments.

 

“Clothes, too,” Harry said, as he toed his boots and socks off and Louis flushed.

 

“You’re really cute like this, all modest,” Harry remarked as Louis toyed with the bottom hem of his t-shirt. “Do you want me to help you?”

 

He did, actually, which Louis himself didn’t really understand. “Just. . .just kiss me,” Louis stuttered out, confused at how he’d suddenly gone from feeling so in control and so confident to kind of a wreck when Harry told him what to do. Maybe he’d just been very, very sure that as the more experienced between them, Harry would be relying on him to lead.

 

Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’ torso and pressed their lips together, his tongue sneaking in to curl around Louis’. His hands slid down to replace Louis’ and they broke apart for only a second, just long enough for Harry to lift Louis’ t-shirt over his head, his fingertips brushing his collarbones, tracing the lettered swirls of Louis’ tattoo, leaving trails of sensation in their wake. Louis shivered, every coherent thought in his head shutting down at the onslaught of sensation as Harry peeled his own shirt off and Louis’ bare skin brushed Harry’s for the first time.

 

Louis laced his fingers behind Harry’s neck and angled his head, trying to kiss him deeper and deeper, until he didn’t know where his mouth ended and Harry’s began. He’d never experienced a kiss this passionate or this sensual, and he never wanted to stop kissing Harry.

 

Harry’s hands trailed down his chest, brushing his nipples, leaving Louis gasping, his hips stuttering wildly against Harry’s, frantic for something to relieve the horrible ache of wanting and waiting for so long. He knew he’d been waiting for Harry, much the same way Harry had been waiting for him.

 

Louis’ abs jumped and tensed as Harry shifted downward, fingertips resting right above the button of Louis’ jeans. Harry pulled away from Louis’ mouth for a moment, and Louis’ eyes opened slowly, like he’d just come out of a drugged haze. “Is this okay?” Harry murmured into the space between their mouths.

 

Louis didn’t technically answer the question. Action, he decided, dazed from desire, was so much better. Meant so much more. So he slid his own hands down to Harry’s own zipper and fumbled with it as he pulled it down. “Your pants,” he panted, “are so damn _tight_.”

 

He tried for about thirty more seconds, as Harry struggled with Louis’ jeans, and they both finally gave up, dissolving into giggles as they took matters into their own hands, shedding the constricting fabric and leaving them both in just their pants.

 

“Bed, bed,” Harry gasped out, his hands branding heated patterns into Louis’ skin. “Bed _now_.”

 

Louis didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed Harry onto the bed and followed him, climbing on top of Harry. The moment they lined up, Louis’ unbearably hard cock brushing against Louis’, they both froze. Louis squeezed his eyes out and tried to breathe, tried not to come from how big and hot Harry felt against him. He wanted Harry’s cock in ten thousand different ways, starting with his hands, and in his mouth and definitely in his ass. He wanted to feel it the day after Harry fucked him.

 

“God,” Harry moaned, throwing his head back, making the most pornographic sounds as Louis began to experimentally grind his cock against Harry’s.

 

“Is this okay?” Louis whispered, leaning down to trail kisses down Harry’s exposed neck, sucking a necklace of love bites into his collarbones. He didn’t know how he’d be able to stop if Harry said no, but Harry’s only answer was his hands clamping down on Louis’ ass and gripping hard, clearly encouraging him to move harder and faster.

 

There was no doubt, Louis thought as he panted through the pleasure coursing through his veins, sweat beginning to bead on his skin, riding Harry for real was going to be something akin to a religious experience. As it was, the desire was already building up at the base of his spine. He wanted to extend the wonder of this first time—he’d never get another with Harry, this was _it_ and he wanted it to be perfect and memorable and maybe even a little life-changing—but he was so close to coming even from their clumsy frantic movements against each other that he wasn’t sure he could last.

 

“Lou,” Harry wailed as Louis sucked a particularly dark love bite into the sensitive skin of his neck, “gonna come.”

 

That was maybe one of the hottest things Louis had ever heard, and he moved faster, sweat sliding down his spine as he searched for his orgasm and gave Harry his own.

 

It only took another four or five thrusts before Harry was shutting his eyes and wailing, his fingers probably leaving ten individual bruises on Louis’ bum. All it took for Louis was the feel of Harry’s wet and stick pants, the hot come soaking through them and giving his own cock just that little bit of extra drag.

 

Louis came with a cursing shout of his own, white heat exploding behind his eyes as he rode out of his orgasm.

 

After a moment, he opened his eyes to Harry staring at him like he was the most incredible being to ever walk the earth.

 

Louis groaned and dipped his head to capture Harry’s mouth again in a slow, drugging kiss, then another, finally pulling pack to rest his forehead against Harry’s.

 

“That was amazing,” Harry confessed softly, his voice dark and gritty and so damn hot that Louis almost thought he could come again just from the wrecked sound of it.

 

“It wasn’t a disappointment?” Louis asked, genuinely kind of curious. He hadn’t really intended for their first time together to just be grinding. He’d hoped to do so much more, but frankly, both of them had been ready to explode. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe they could recover and do a little more. Louis hoped so, anyway.

 

“A disappointment?” Harry asked, clearly mystified. “Um, no. That was probably the hottest experience of my entire life, watching you ride me like that. You’re definitely going to do that for real, later, right?”

 

Louis laughed weakly, because that was literally all he had the energy for right now. “Yes. Definitely. If you’d want that.”

 

“I definitely would want that,” Harry said, his tone low and nearly reverent. “You’re so fucking hot, I’ll probably come too fast.”

 

“Good thing you’re young and have got good recovery time,” Louis said, with a little choked laugh. “I’ll have to count on that.” He shifted a little on Harry. “Ugh, coming in our pants, not the best plan, though.”

 

“We could take a shower,” Harry suggested.

 

“I definitely need one,” Louis agreed.

 

“Together, then,” Harry said, with a bit of a knowing smirk.

 

It wasn’t until they’d dragged themselves off the bed, Louis’ knees still a little embarrassingly weak, and into the hot spray of the walk-in shower, that Louis’ sluggish brain put two and two together and he realized that Harry had every intention of proving his recovery time was top notch.

 

Or maybe it was Louis’ recovery time he was planning on testing because as soon as they were in the shower, Harry pushed Louis against the tiled wall of the shower and proceeded to devour his mouth all over again. Louis was rather impressed with his own ability because when Harry reached down to grasp his cock in his hand, it was to his own surprise that he was half-hard again. _Already_.

 

He’d never recovered that fast in his life, but then he’d also never had a boy like this before—beautiful and open and so fucking responsive that Louis wanted to cry. There were so many ways he wanted to take Harry apart and he was still trying to decide which to pick as Harry lazily stroked his cock and they kissed that he was completely taken aback when Harry dropped his knees and slipped the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth.

 

Louis stumbled backwards and Harry edged closer, bracing himself against Louis’ thighs as he curled his tongue around the head of his cock.

 

“Shit, Haz,” Louis swore. “That feels. . .” he groaned as Harry proceeded to swallow down more than half of his length, the suction tight and perfect and hot in Harry’s mouth. “That feels fucking amazing.”

 

Harry pulled off and gave a warm lick up the underside of Louis’ cock. “God, your dick is so pretty,” Harry crooned, “so fucking thick and gorgeous. I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

 

Louis knew his stamina should be a lot better. He’d just fucking _come_ for god’s sake, but he was already right at the edge, just from Harry’s words and his lips and the absolutely sinful way he was mouthing at Louis’ cock. Then Harry went all the way down, in one long, smooth stroke, turning Louis’ knees into mush, and he started praying that he’d last longer than thirty seconds.

 

“Fucking hell,” Louis breathed out as he felt Harry’s nose brush his stomach. “You’re amazing at this. Feels so damn good, Haz.”

 

Harry’s tongue curled around the underside of his cock, and Louis saw stars as he tried desperately not to come. The pleasure coursed hot and sharp through his veins, making him dizzy, and his hands drifted down to grip Harry’s hair as he swallowed Louis down. He wasn’t sure how Harry, a self-professed near-virgin, could be so fucking incredible at sucking cock, but the truth was, he absolutely was, and it was kind of blowing Louis’ mind.

 

“Gonna come,” Louis panted out finally, unable to hold back the flood of sensation that Harry was creating one second longer. He tugged hard at Harry’s head, but he just stayed where he was and as Louis’ orgasm hit like a tidal wave, he realized that he’d just hit the fucking jackpot. Harry was wonderful and amazing and sweet and funny and so beautiful that Louis could barely stand it sometimes. _And_ he clearly loved to suck cock. Louis needed to send fate a fruit basket or something.

 

With a few last licks, Harry reluctantly let go of Louis’ dick and let it slip from his mouth. Louis braced his hands against the wall and hoped he wouldn’t actually fall over before he could return the favor, but before he even could, Harry had wrapped a hand around himself and he only had to thrust once, then twice, and he was coming all over the floor of the shower.

 

“Shit, hell,” Harry panted out. “Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You coming, Lou. _God.”_

Harry got up, his own knees unsteady, and they actually bathed this time, washing the sticky come from their bodies and only kissing lazily once or twice under the hot spray.

 

It was only when they were out of the shower and wrapped in the warm, fluffy robes the hotel provided, that Louis asked the question he’d been thinking since they’d finished in the shower.

 

Harry was popping the cork on the champagne when Louis worked up the courage to ask. “Where’d you learn. . .” he stuttered out, “where’d you learn to do that?”

 

Harry’s gaze swung to Louis, no judgment there, but a kind of wary concern. “I said I was a virgin, not completely inexperienced,” Harry said softly.

 

“I know, I know. It’s okay, I just. . .I wasn’t expecting that,” Louis admitted. “I mean, I really liked it. You’re amazing, Harry.”

 

“You knew that I’d go out. Stay out all night. There were a few guys I’d meet. . .sometimes. It didn’t mean anything though. Most of the time I actually pretended they were you.” Harry blushed and returned his attention to the bottle of champagne, popping the cork and directing the stream of liquid into the glasses. He handed one to Louis, who sipped at it as he sat curled in one of the big cushioned chairs. Harry perched on the edge of the chair and wrapped one arm around Louis as he drank his wine.

 

“Does that bother you?” Harry asked, gazing down at him. “That I thought about you?”

 

Louis couldn’t help his flush. “Actually,” he confessed, giving Harry a little smile, “I thought about you, too.”

 

He was almost done with his glass of champagne, lazily curled against Harry as he stroked his back, when he realized what the hotel employee had mentioned.

 

“What else did you plan?” Louis asked softly, not even trying to disguise the fondness on his face as he gazed up at Harry. “I mean, the seduction plan worked pretty well.”

 

“Just pretty well?” Harry teased, his fingertips lightly digging into the fabric of Louis’ robe.

 

Louis blushed. “Okay, _really_ well.”

 

Harry leaned over and picked up the house phone from the bedside table. Whoever answered seemed to know who he was and what he wanted, because Harry only had to say a few words, and then he was hanging up again.

 

“It’s on its way,” Harry said, grinning smugly over at Louis. “Prepare to be viciously spoiled, boo.”

 

“I think I’ve _already_ been spoiled,” Louis said, trying to hold back a yawn. “I just hope whatever’s coming doesn’t mean I have to get out of this chair. It’s so comfy.”

 

When the surprise turned out to be dinner, wheeled in on an elegant little cart, served with a flourish by a waiter who proceeded to light the candles in the room, Louis couldn’t help but be a tiny bit worried. “Maybe I should have gone into the bathroom,” he’d said to Harry, adjusting the tie on his robe nervously. He knew exactly what it had looked like when the waiter had showed up. There was no way he hadn’t realized that the whole situation screamed sex.

 

Harry tugged on Louis’ arm, helping him to the tiny table that had been set. “I don’t care,” Harry said. “I would never ask you to hide in the bathroom. Not on my account anyway.”

 

Louis wanted to insist that if Harry really wanted to stay in the closet, he was definitely going about it the wrong way—and it had only been a few days. Louis didn’t want to think of the kind of rumors that might build if they continued their relationship in LA and Harry continued to act like he didn’t give a shit.

 

But it had been such a perfect evening—more than anything Louis could have ever imagined, even back during the times when it had felt like the only thing sustaining him were his unrequited fantasies about Harry—that in the end, Louis kept his mouth shut. He let Harry spoil him horribly, even allowing him to spoon whatever fantastic chocolate concoction Harry had ordered into his mouth, bite by bite, until Harry had lifted him effortlessly from the chair and deposited him onto the bed like he was worth more than his weight in gold. Harry had joined him on the bed and they’d kissed and cuddled, finally falling asleep as the candles spluttered in their own wax.

 

\-----

“I want to try to make it to Bandon today,” Louis announced as they were dressing the next morning after a rather lazy lie-in and a room service delivery featuring delectable French toast that Louis had fed to Harry one bite at a time. “And we’re headed through the Redwoods so that might take some time.”

 

“What’s Bandon?” Harry asked, pulling on one of his flannels and buttoning it up. Louis leaned over and tweaked open one button, then another.

 

“You need to stop doing that,” Harry said, swatting his hands away. “People are gonna think I like walking around half-naked.”

 

“ _I_ like you walking around half-naked,” Louis smirked. “But to answer your question, Bandon is a small town in Southern Oregon, on the coast, and it’s rather famous for one thing.”

 

“Blowjobs?” Harry teased. “Orgies?”

 

“You wish,” Louis retorted.

 

“Maybe the former, not so much the latter,” Harry admitted shyly. “As it turns out, I’m not so big on sharing. So what is it actually famous for?”

 

“Golf, your very favorite,” Louis said, grinning and Harry grinned right back. Louis knew they probably looked like two complete idiots right now, but he discovered that he’d literally never cared about anything less.

 

\----

After their late morning departure, Louis knew they had to make up quite a bit of time if they were going to reach Bandon at any kind of decent hour.

 

“But what if we’re missing something?” Harry had whined as Louis passed historical markers and signs for various beaches and state parks. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

 

“Trust me, Haz, I’ve done my research. There’s not much around here. Lots of pretty scenery maybe, but not really anything worth stopping at. Besides, I was under the impression you actually wanted to golf tomorrow. Maybe I was wrong?” Louis shot a sly, teasing look in Harry’s direction, knowing exactly what he’d say. Personally, Louis had never really understood Harry’s golfing obsession but if it meant he got to watch Harry in his favorite golf trousers, without once having to pretend he wasn’t completely absorbed by the way they hugged his cute little ass and his incredibly long legs, he could definitely tolerate a few rounds.

 

Plus, the resort he’d booked them into at Bandon wasn’t quite as spectacular as the one they’d just left, but it was still nice and could even be romantic—especially for someone who liked golf, and Harry _loved_ golf.

 

“Besides, we do have the Redwoods to drive through,” Louis added. “Have you ever seen them?”

 

“I haven’t,” Harry said, bouncing on his seat almost like an excited little boy. Louis had almost never been so endeared in his life— _almost._ The truth was, he was rapidly nearing the point of no return with Harry and he knew it. He’d been in love with him before they’d even become involved, but now that they were and it was so fucking transcendentally wonderful, Louis didn’t think he’d ever be able to move on or get over it. He was going to need Harry in his life, in a rather boyfriendy capacity, for the long term future. He just hoped he could manage to convince Harry they were good enough to make it work despite all the potential pitfalls and problems they’d face as a closeted couple.

 

They stopped at a little roadside diner for lunch, scarfing down their food so they could spend the rest of their allotted one hour break making out lazily in the back seat of the Mercedes.

 

“Tell me we’ll get to the hotel soon,” Harry said, panting against Louis’ neck. “I want you to ride me tonight.”

 

Louis tried to ignore the zing of electricity that raced up his spine at Harry’s words, but it was hard to concentrate on anything when Harry’s erection was pressing so insistently into his hip.

 

“Um,” he stammered, “I think we’ve got quite a drive ahead of us, Haz.”

 

Harry’s head fell back on the seat and he groaned. “I love golf but seriously, Lou. I’m going to die before we get to the hotel.”

 

Louis glanced around the car, and since he’d already planned on their little makeout session, he’d parked at the very end of the lot, so there was enough distance between the Mercedes and anyone else that he felt safe enough to attempt something maybe a little crazy.

 

The thing was, Harry made him wantto never play it safe.

 

“Then let me save you,” Louis said, giving Harry the most scorching look in his repertoire. He dropped as gracefully to his knees as he could, wiggling between Harry’s legs, and leaned forward, his fingers reaching for Harry’s zipper.

 

“Louis,” Harry panted, “are you absolutely fucking serious right now?”

 

“Absolutely,” Louis said, pulling Harry’s jeans down and pulling his hard cock out of his pants. Harry moaned as Louis licked a stripe up his cock, his tongue wrapping around the head and sucking.

 

The thing was, Louis had kind of been dying to get his mouth around Harry’s dick since he’d seen it for the first time yesterday. Okay, correction—Louis had been dying to get his mouth around Harry’s dick since like the first day they’d met. And it was all he’d imagined and more, thick and heavy on his tongue, and he even enjoyed the challenge and the stretch of his lips around the girth. Precome dribbled from the head and Louis lapped it up, surprised at how sweet it tasted, with just the barest hint of salt. He sucked harder, and slid the length further down his throat, making sure to relax as it hit the beginning of his gag reflex.

 

Harry let out a loud groan. “Lou, your fucking mouth,” he hissed as Louis worked him down further. Louis glanced up to see Harry’s hands hover over his head and then hesitate. He nodded briefly and Harry’s head tipped back as he plunged his fingers into Louis’ hair, though he was clearly trying to be careful to not disturb Louis’ rhythm.

 

From the way Harry’s thigh muscles were tensing and the expressive moans that Harry couldn’t seem to contain, Louis knew he must be close. So he pulled off, took a deep breath and let Harry’s cock slide all the way down, until he was swallowing around the tip.

 

“Fuuuuuck,” Harry wailed, as Louis’ throat fluttered around his cock, “I’m going to fucking come.”

 

Louis glanced up in enough time to watch Harry’s eyes screw shut as hot come pumped out of Harry’s dick. Louis swallowed convulsively, licking the up and down to finish cleaning Harry off. He gently tucked Harry back into his pants and glanced up at the younger boy.

 

“ _That_ was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry murmured, his hands petting Louis’ hair as he managed to collapse on the bench seat next to Harry.

 

Harry looked so wrecked and out of it that Louis couldn’t help but give a rather pleased smile back. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he croaked, voice more than a little ruined.

 

“Let me return the favor,” Harry insisted, his hands already going to Louis’ zipper before he could even protest. And he might have put up a token effort, but before he could even attempt, Harry had him spread out on the seat and he was between his legs, gently pulling down his zipper.

 

And Louis knew from last night that Harry’s blowjobs were really too fantastic to turn down, so he let Harry sink down on his cock without a single argument. And as it turned out, not only were Harry’s blowjobs fantastic, but giving Harry a blowjob had already worn his control way down and an embarrassingly short time later, Harry was licking the come off his cock.

 

“You’re insanely good at that,” Louis moaned as Harry laid his head on his chest.

 

“I like doing it,” Harry admitted quietly. “Quite a lot, actually.”

 

“Well, if you ever decide you just have to have a dick in your mouth, just say the word. I’ve just decided I’m not going to stop you.”

 

Harry lifted his head to look straight up at Louis, a little grin on his swollen lips. “How magnanimous of you, Lou.”

 

“Really, I’m the best.”

 

“You are,” Harry exhaled on a shaky breath, returning to his original position on Louis’ chest.

 

Louis knew they really had to get moving if they were going to make it to Bandon at any kind of decent hour, but he was strangely comfortable like this and he wasn’t sure he ever really wanted to move again. Then he glanced down and saw just how cramped of a position Harry was in, his long legs all curled up underneath him. He couldn’t possibly be comfortable, but he’d not said a single word, and was apparently just as content as Lou to sit here for as long as he wanted.

 

“You’re all folded up like a pretzel,” Louis fussed, trying to scoot further back on the seat, but there just wasn’t room for him to go anywhere.

 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

 

“You really _should_ mind,” Louis scoffed.

 

“But you like it like this,” Harry said, as if this explained everything.

 

“You know,” Louis said, finally reaching over to open the passenger door and begin to try to get them back on the road, “you’re the most selfless celebrity I’ve ever met.”

 

“Yep,” Harry admitted readily, “I’m the worst. I know.” He climbed out of the car and stretched his legs. “I suppose we need to get moving.”

 

“I still distinctly remember promising you a ride tonight,” Louis said with a lip-curling smirk as they climbed back into the front seats of the Mercedes. “It’ll be awfully late if we wait any longer.”

 

“Trust me,” Harry said, leaning over the center console and resting his head on Louis’ shoulder. “I’m not going to care how late it is.”

 

And normally Louis probably would have cared, but he knew deep down that it wouldn’t matter how dead tired he was tonight, he was still going to crave Harry with every cell in his body. Before that kind of intense need might have scared him, but all Louis could think as he pulled out onto the highway again was that this time around, it didn’t feel scary, it only felt right.

 

\----

 

Louis turned onto the Avenue of the Giants bypass a few hours later. He glanced over at Harry, who had shed his boots and had his socked feet propped up on the dash as he dozed in the late September sunshine. Rolling his eyes, Louis gave him a quick shove to wake him. “Harry,” Louis called out loudly, “it’s Redwoods time.”

 

Harry’s eyes opened instantly and he shot up in the seat, green eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I can’t believe we’re already here!”

 

“It’s been hours,” Louis complained. “And you’ve been sleeping the whole time, not even keeping me company.”

 

“I always get sleepy after I come,” Harry explained with a bashful grin. “Especially when I come like that.”

 

“Perhaps something we’ll have to remedy,” Louis said thoughtfully.

 

Harry’s eyes grew even bigger, and Louis had to remind himself that they couldn’t pull off to the side of the road and he couldn’t explore what else could make Harry’s pupils dilate that quickly.

 

“You mean, like, coming again, like _right_ after?” Harry asked, breathless. “I _definitely_ want to try that.”

 

“Harold,” Louis said with a laugh, “you’re actually going to miss the trees if we keep talking about sex. We can talk about sex tonight.”

 

Harry’s lower lip quivered into a pout that shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was. “I don’t wanna _talk_ about sex tonight,” he insisted, “I want to _have_ sex tonight.”

 

“Perhaps you’ll be lucky and get both,” Louis said, even though he had already made up his mind that he was definitely going to be getting fucked by that gorgeous dick tonight. “Now pay attention. You said you wanted to see the trees.”

 

“I do. I really, really do,” Harry said, turning towards the passenger window and taking in the dense forest they were passing through.

 

After about ten minutes of them driving through the forest, Harry turned to Louis. “They’re big trees, but really they’re just _trees_.”

 

Louis had to stifle a giggle. “Well, what did you think the Redwoods were?”

 

Harry just shrugged. “I didn’t really think about it, I guess,” he admitted. “But I thought there would be something cooler than just trees. I mean, they’re pretty and all . . .” he trailed off and suddenly his focus narrowed in on Louis. “But not as pretty as you.”

 

Louis couldn’t even help it; he flat out giggled and tried not to feel embarrassed at how silly he sounded. The problem was that Harry made him so fucking _happy_ —and really it wasn’t even a problem, but sometimes the depth and breadth of it was a little terrifying. Louis doesn’t want to even contemplate what he’d feel like if all this was suddenly ripped away. He’d be so fucking alone and _empty_. Harry’s bright eyes and his slow way of speaking and horrible jokes and even worse puns and sudden sexual obsession are what fill Louis up. They made him feel here and real and alive.

 

He’d thought he was in love before—enough with Aidan even that he’d wanted them to start a life together—but Louis was pretty damn sure he’d never been in love like this.

 

“I could say it a thousand times, and it wouldn’t be enough,” Harry admitted. “I just . . .you take my breath away.”

 

Louis wondered if this could possibly be true. He was in clothes wrinkled from his suitcase, he hadn’t really bothered to style his hair today, and it was falling over his face in a very messy fringe that Harry further messed up during their little noon escapade in the backseat, and he was definitely a little sunburned from their epic hike to the lighthouse. He had definitely looked worse, but he’d also looked better, but Harry literally seemed like he could care less. His eyes were practically sparkling as he gazed at over at him, and Louis realized that he’d never looked more like a Disney princess than he did in this moment. He loved it.

 

Really, he just loved Harry _period_.

 

“Thanks, Haz,” he said, shooting Harry the warmest smile he could, the one that he tried to keep to himself, the one that he knew gave all the love he felt away. Maybe he couldn’t tell Harry—how could he?—but maybe he could show him a little.

 

Harry’s answering smile was nearly blinding.

 

“Got one last surprise here, though, so reserve your judgment on the trees until then,” Louis added.

 

Harry absolutely adored the drive-through tree. His mouth went slack in awe and he was craning his neck, trying to get the best view of the tree that he could as they drove right through it. Louis was still himself so he couldn’t help but worry that maybe one of those stray branches would scratch the hell out of the Mercedes’ paint, but Harry was so fascinated by the whole experience, Louis kept his mouth shut. If the paint got scratched, he knew it would definitely be worth it.

 

Harry insisted that they park the car even, and he bought a magnet in the gift shop, after taking about five thousand pictures of himself and Louis in front of the tree. He’d asked an older lady to take them, and Louis had hesitated before approaching Harry. He needn’t have worried. Harry kept it very friendly, only slinging a bro-pal arm around his shoulder and not even yanking him as close as he normally did.

 

It was better this way, Louis told himself, as he waited for Harry to pee before they got on the road again, but it still stung a little.

 

He couldn’t help but wonder if the little sting might gradually grow into something bigger, the longer this went on. In two years would he regret telling Harry it was okay that he stay closeted?

 

Would he and Harry’s relationship eventually turn sour because of it?

 

It wasn’t a thought that Louis particularly enjoyed having, but it was one that he knew was worth considering, especially if they were both serious about making this serious.

 

“You’re quiet,” Harry said about an hour down the road, as Louis couldn’t quite shake the melancholy that had seeped into him at the thought of Harry turning into another Aidan. “Is everything alright?”

 

Louis hesitated. He didn’t want to pressure, never wanted to push. Only wanted Harry to do what _he_ wanted. But Louis also knew that what _he_ wanted was important too—too important to just shove aside like it didn’t matter, which was what he’d done with Aidan.

 

By the time Louis had realized that he’d prioritized Aidan until his own existence was pretty much extinguished, Louis had almost begun to believe it was true. And that had been the real reason Louis had been so broken when he’d first met Harry—he’d been trying to figure out who he was again. Harry had given him the chance and Louis had made the most of it, re-discovering the real Louis as he went along. Along the line, Louis had made himself a promise that he’d never compromise himself for a relationship again and he’d meant it, _still_ meant it, even as he and Harry increasingly maneuvered themselves into a problem that didn’t have a real solution. Even worse, they were fast nearing the point of no return—Louis knew he was probably already past it, but of course, it was impossible to know about Harry unless he confessed how deep his own feelings ran.

 

“Thinking,” Louis finally said, even though that was the most vague answer in the universe. Harry frowned, as if he knew the line of thought that was currently occupying his mind.

 

“Is this. . .is it about the photographs in the tree?” Harry asked after a long, protracted silence.

 

“Yes, and no,” Louis said.

 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said after another delay. “I didn’t know that would bother you.” But Louis knew it was a lie, they _both_ knew it was a lie. Even if Harry hadn’t been the worst liar ever, this was the exact same reason Harry hadn’t confessed his feelings long ago.

 

Louis considered calling him out on it, but it was nearing dusk, they still had a bit of a drive ahead of them, and he didn’t really fancy having a row with Harry in the car.

 

They didn’t really stop for dinner, just picked up In ‘n Out burgers and ate them hurriedly in the parking lot, under the artificial brightness of one of the tall lights in the parking lot. They hadn’t really talked since Harry had lied, and Louis hated that he’d ruined the day by both thinking too much and not all and now Harry was depressed too—on the very trip that Louis had planned to cheer him up.

 

It was past nine when they finally made it to Bandon. It had been a long, full day, both physically and emotionally exhausting and Louis didn’t think he could face Harry pretending in the lobby that he and Louis were just boss and employee, so he stayed in the car while Harry got their room key.

 

“We’ve got a little cottage. Pretty private,” Harry said, as he climbed back in the car. Which was distinctly _not_ the kind of room that he’d reserved, but maybe this was part of Harry making up for what they _couldn’t_ have, so he didn’t point it out.

 

“Just point me in the right direction,” Louis said, trying for breezy and getting pretty close. Maybe he’d be able to salvage this evening after all.

 

“I think it’s around the bend in that road,” Harry said, pointing to the left, where Louis could see a ring of cottages around the edge of the golf course.

 

“I made a tee time too,” Harry said offhandedly, “for tomorrow morning. Didn’t reserve a caddy though, so guess you’ll have to help me out.”

 

Louis parked in front of their cottage and shot Harry a disbelieving look. “Caddying? I don’t think that’s in my job description.”

 

“It _could_ be,” Harry said, smiling for the first time in what felt like endless hours.

 

“Fine, fine,” Louis grumbled, more for the show of it than actual annoyance. If forcing Louis to caddy his golf game was going to cheer Harry up and drain off a little bit of this weird tension, then Louis would happily, readily, do it.

 

“It’s pretty early,” Harry said. “I thought we’d want to get on the road.”

 

“It’s not really very far to our next stop, but I thought you might want to spend a little time in Florence, at the dunes,” Louis said.

 

“Then it’s worth an early tee time,” Harry said with a generous smile in Louis’ direction. Louis grabbed his bags from the back and had Harry’s duffel on his shoulder before Harry even had a chance to take it.

 

Harry made a protesting noise, but Louis just rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying it,” Louis said as they walked to the front door of the tiny cottage.

 

Louis definitely didn’t expect to be faced with anything like Harry had set up at the Fairmont in Sonoma, and he wasn’t. The cottage was dark and a little cold. There was a fireplace though, upstairs in the bedroom, and as Harry flipped some lights on, and went to the bathroom, Louis knelt in front of it and was pleasantly surprised at how plush and soft the carpet was. Maybe he could still transition this evening into a more pleasant avenue—of course it was completely idiotic to become even _more_ involved, and to take Harry’s virginity when he wasn’t sure how they could work this out, but Louis felt like they’d been on the cusp of this for two years, even if he hadn’t realized, and there was almost no way he could stop now. They were out of control freight train, hurtling down the track towards an inevitable, probably painful, conclusion.

 

There was already wood setup in the fireplace, and all Louis had to do was light it. By the time Harry came out of the bathroom, the fire was already beginning to crackle.

 

“Oh,” Harry exhaled, as he warmed his hands in front of the flames, “that’s very nice.”

 

Louis patted the ground next to him. “Come sit with me, Harold.”

 

He couldn’t miss the apprehension in Harry’s eyes, but Harry sat regardless, hesitantly reaching out and curling an arm around Louis’ waist. Slowly, they scooted closer together, until Harry had his face buried in Louis’ neck and he was wrapped around the older boy like a koala.

 

“Is this alright?” Louis heard Harry whisper into his skin.

 

Louis gently turned and cradled Harry’s face in his hands. “Of course it is.” He paused, wondering just how much he should say. Then he remembered that he’d promised himself that he’d be honest with Harry, way before they’d even become this involved. “The future scares me,” he confessed.

 

Harry hummed, trailing a line of soft kisses down Louis’ neck. “It scares me too,” Harry admitted.

 

“But what scares me most of all is losing you,” Louis said quietly, seriously. “I care about you too much. You’re not just a part of my life, you feel like part of _me_.”

 

Louis felt Harry’s lips freeze on his neck and he panicked, wondering if he’d said too much, too fast, but then Harry continued, far more enthusiastically before. When he reached the collar of Louis’ shirt, Harry carefully tucked it back and sucked a rather dark love bite into his collarbone, the feel of Harry’s lips on his skin thickening up his cock before they’d even properly kissed.

 

“I feel the same way,” Harry finally said. “It was so hard to feel this way and to _not_ tell you. I feel like I could handle almost anything, but I can’t go back to that. It was impossible.”

 

“I don’t want that either,” Louis confessed. “But sometimes the situation is going to scare me.”

 

“Because of Aidan?” Harry asked.

 

Louis nodded. “Because of Aidan.”

 

Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Louis and squeezed. “I don’t know why or how your relationship went bad,” Harry murmured into Louis’ bicep, “and I can’t promise that it won’t happen to us, too, but I still want to try.”

 

Louis wanted to try so much he was nearly burning up with it. He’d probably end up lighting the first match himself, but maybe the world would end in fire after all.

 

“Okay,” Louis breathed out unsteadily. He was taking so much on faith and love, but somehow it wasn’t nearly as scary as it should be. If he fell, he trusted Harry would be at the bottom to catch him.

 

Harry’s eyes flickered once, then twice, as if he was making his own decision, then they shut and he was suddenly grasping onto Louis like he was a lifeline. They toppled over, their lips meeting in a fierce but passionate kiss. Louis quickly ended upright, perched right on Harry’s dick, which in his opinion, was where he pretty much belonged _always_.

 

Harry seemed to agree because as Louis wiggled unrepentantly on Harry’s hardening cock, his eyes practically rolled back in his head. “You gonna be okay, Haz?” Louis asked, leaning down and licking and sucking on his neck, his own heartbeat fluttering at the addictive taste of Harry’s skin, the scent of his curls weaving around them. “Need you not to come. Can you do that for me?”

 

Squeezing his eyes shut hard, Harry gave a single, abrupt nod, his soft, plush mouth falling open in a soundless groan as Louis continued to rock on his dick.

 

“Gonna feel fucking amazing,” Harry panted out. “ _Fuck_.”

 

Louis sat up and flicked off his shirt in one swift movement, deciding that if they didn’t get on with it, Harry definitely might not last. And he really, _really_ wanted to finally feel Harry’s cock after so many lonely nights merely imagining it while he fucked himself with a vibrator that couldn’t possibly compare to the real thing.

 

Harry blindly reached forward and to both their surprise, managed to palm the front of Louis’ jeans on the first try, his hand curling, big and meaty and strong around Louis’ dick and Louis realized that Harry wasn’t the only one riding a bit too close to the edge.

 

His knees were weak, but Louis managed to stand, ignoring Harry’s whimper of protest, slide his shoes and socks off, then his jeans before he quickly retrieved the necessary items from a pocket of his suitcase.

 

“Come on, Harold,” Louis said in a mock-stern voice, as he returned back to the fireplace and Harry was still laying there, cock impossibly hard against his zipper, completely dressed. “You want this bum, you’ve got to work for it a little.”

 

Harry sat up, pupils blown wide with arousal. “Whatever you want, Lou,” he insisted, his voice gravelly and rough. Louis couldn’t get over how responsive Harry was, how bloody fucking much he wanted _Louis_. He quickly shucked his own clothes, leaving him deliciously clad in only a pair of low-riding black pants that Louis really kind of wanted to remove with his teeth and explore everything underneath with his mouth. _Another time_ , Louis told himself. _This isn’t the only time we’ll be like this._ Instead, he managed to get Harry’s pants off with only a few teasing touches that he couldn’t resist. Harry moaned and threw his head back, exposing that gorgeous neck again and Louis wanted to suck and lick at every single fucking inch of it.

 

Harry reached up and pulled Louis’ own pants down, his lips going slack at the sight of Louis’ hard cock. “Fucking gorgeous,” Harry panted, his hands grasping for Louis, but Louis swatted them away as he perched right back on Harry. “None of that,” he gasped as Harry’s fingers brushed his dick, pleasure fizzling up his spine and making it blurt a tiny drop of pre-come. “I won’t last.”

 

Glancing down at the items Louis had retrieved, Harry frowned. “Don’t wanna use a condom,” he pouted, his lower lip swollen and deep raspberry pink. “I’m clean, I swear.”

 

“As am I,” Louis said. “But we’re not home. Condoms make things a bit. . .easier.” He shrugged. He too would prefer to feel the heat of Harry without the latex covering, but this was also Harry’s first time. He might last a little longer if they used a condom. Louis began to reach for the lube, so he could start the prep, but Harry got there first, slapping away Louis’ fingers.

 

“I wanna be the one to prep you,” Harry insisted. “Turn around and let me see that gorgeous ass, baby.”

 

Louis didn’t usually feel self-conscious about sex. He’d had quite a bit of it, in his time, and he knew he was good at it. He also knew he looked good. But he was completely unprepared for the nearly reverent way Harry’s fingers gently stroked across his bare back and down across the curves of his bum.

 

“Pretty,” Harry gritted out as Louis jostled deliberately against his cock again.

 

It was hot as hell to not be able to see what Harry was doing, and the first wet finger took him by surprise, as Harry stroked his hole and then snuck it in, curling it a bit and pushing it in and out, getting Louis used to the stretch.

 

“So tight. Gonna feel so good around my dick,” Harry moaned. And Louis bit his own lip because they’d barely gotten started and the way his own body was unraveling Harry was rapidly unraveling Louis.

 

“More, more,” Louis insisted.

 

Harry slid a second finger in next to the first and Louis couldn’t help the low moan. He’d thought about Harry’s long, thick fingers for years and imagined just how mind-blowing they’d feel fingering him. He hadn’t really anticipated much out of this tonight, though, ever since discovering that Harry was a virgin. Louis had considered giving him some pointers, since it wasn’t really a good idea to botch the prep, especially considering Harry’s size—but Harry clearly knew what he was doing, confidently scissoring his fingers to help ease the stretch a little.

 

Then Harry grazed against his prostrate and Louis gave a high little shriek as pleasure spiked through him, bubbling relentlessly in his blood.

 

He’d only come untouched a handful of times in his life, but already he could feel the orgasm building insistently at the base of his spine.

 

Louis glanced back so he could tell Harry that he needed another and then he _needed_ to get in him before he actually fucking came just from Harry’s fingers, but he regretted it as soon as he craned his neck because Harry looked even more wrecked than Louis felt. And Louis was the one getting fingered.

 

Harry’s lips were bitten red, his eyes were wide and unblinking as they drank in every tiny movement of his fingers up Louis’ bum.

 

But it was the look of sheer awe on Harry’s beautiful face that was Louis’ undoing. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the words out but before he could even form the first syllable, the swell of pleasure built and built and he clenched down on Harry’s fingers, come spurting out of his dick.

 

Louis came back to earth, panting like he’d just run a marathon, sluggish pulses of pleasure floating through him as Harry continued to gently move his fingers in and out. And before Louis could say anything, even fucking apologize for shooting off from a little bit of fingering, Harry had slipped a third finger in, and it was both way too much and not nearly enough.

 

Waiting for one stroke of Harry’s fingers and then two, Louis finally gasped out, “enough, enough. Gotta get your dick in me _now_.”

 

“Yeah?” Harry’s voice was slow and sweet, like the molasses that felt like it was running through Louis’ veins. “Gonna come again on my cock, baby?”

 

“Yes, yes, _yes_ ,” Louis said, galvanized by Harry’s words. He wiggled Harry’s fingers out and yanked Harry’s pants down, reaching for the lube.

 

Harry’s cock was impossibly hard and purple, laying in a puddle of pre-come that had gathered messily on his abs. Louis’ mouth watered. He wanted to do a thousand things to that dick.

 

He slid the condom on as quickly as he could and when he swiped his wet fingers across the head, Harry moaned and his cock twitched in Louis’ palm. “Don’t come,” Louis ordered a lot more autocratically than normally would, but Louis readily admitted to being a tiny bit selfish. He wanted _more_.

 

Harry gave one succinct nod, and watched with awestruck eyes as Louis nestled the head of his cock at his entrance. Slowly he sank down, biting hard at his lower lip as Harry stretched him out.

 

When he was finally full seated, Louis opened his eyes and glanced down at Harry. His own were wide and unblinking, his hands clenched into tight fists, the corded muscles in his forearms in stark relief against his pale skin.

 

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry moaned brokenly. “ _Fuck_.”

 

“Fuck is right,” Louis gasped, the pleasure already building again, just from the feeling of Harry so hard and big inside him. His dick was already nudging at his prostate and he knew he wasn’t going to last. Not when it was this good. “Gonna move now.”

 

“Lou,” Harry wailed as Louis lifted off and slammed back down, and Louis was pretty sure he made some kind of inhuman noise of his own as Harry hit his spot dead on and sent impossibly hot pleasure shooting up his spine.

 

Louis built up a stuttering rhythm, too overwhelmed by the sight of Harry falling apart underneath him and the intensity of his own desire to give Harry the ride he probably deserved. Even then, Louis was sure, in some fuzzy corner of his brain that wasn’t completely consumed by the boy beneath him, that this was still the best sex he’d ever had.

 

When Harry wrapped one big hand around Louis’ cock and gave one or two long, hard strokes, Louis was sure of it. He came as hard as he ever had in his life, a supernova exploding through him, only vaguely aware of Harry keening beneath him as he felt the condom fill up.

 

Louis collapsed onto Harry and didn’t even care they were both sweaty and sticky, covered in lube and come. He wasn’t ever going to move from this spot.

 

“God, Lou,” Harry murmured into Louis’ damp hair, one hand reaching up to cup his neck possessively. “That was. . .more than anything I could have ever dreamed of.”

 

It was for Louis too. And it raised a horrible question that he was in too good of a mood, fucked out and relaxed, to even want to contemplate.

 

Once they’d had sex that good—and the _first_ time too, Louis reminded himself—how were they ever going to live without it? He was going to want Harry all the time. It was going to turn into a craving, a disease, probably. Harry was going to walk into the room and Louis would most definitely get hard.

 

Not a very conducive setting for getting any actual, real work done.

 

Worry snaked through Louis and that was just enough to pull him out of his sex coma. Wincing, he gently lifted off Harry’s dick, and on weak and shaky knees, got to his feet. “I’ll get a flannel,” he whispered to Harry, leaning down to give him a long kiss before he disappeared into the bathroom.

 

When he came back, Harry was still laying on the floor. “I should be doing this for you,” Harry said a bit mournfully. “I’m a bad fuck.”

 

“Um, no. Not even close,” Louis said with a little laugh. “Not even in a hundred thousand years.”

 

“So it was good for you too?” Harry asked, all hopeful innocence, as if he hadn’t just rocked Louis’ entire world and shook it to its foundation.

 

“Um. It was amazing. Mind blowing. Incredible.” Louis paused. “I think I’m out of adjectives for how good it was.”

 

Harry glowed like the sun had just risen. “So you’ll want to do it again?”

 

Louis couldn’t help but chuckle that Harry’s first thought was so much the same as his. “Absolutely, a hundred percent yes,” he said as he leaned down and started to clean Harry’s abs with the damp flannel. “I’d probably cry if you didn’t want to.”

 

“Me too,” Harry mumbled, his voice rumbling and slow. “Sleep now.”

 

“Bed now,” Louis said sternly. “Your back will hate you in the morning if you stay on the floor.”

 

“Never want to leave this spot,” Harry vowed, such a serious look in those green eyes. As if maybe he was saying something quite different than not sleeping in front of the fireplace. As if maybe he wanted to stay with Louis forever.

 

But that was insane, Louis reminded himself firmly. Harry couldn’t possibly be feeling that way.

 

That could only be Louis that was so completely, irrevocably in love.

 

\---

 

The next morning, the alarm went off disgustingly early. Louis groaned and rolled over, throwing his arms and his legs over Harry.

 

“Oof,” Harry groaned, and tried to shift Louis off him.

 

“Too early,” Louis whined, pressing his face into the soft, warm skin of Harry’s back. “Let’s stay in bed.”

 

“Nope,” Harry said fondly, pulling himself in smaller so that Louis could properly spoon him. “You brought me here to golf.”

 

“I was stupid,” Louis said, aware of how petulant he sounded. But it was early and Harry was warm and he wanted cuddles and then morning sex, even though he could feel a twinge of discomfort as he shifted around. Pain was fleeting; hot sex was forever.

 

Harry rolled over and Louis yelped as his big body landed on him. But Harry was careful to keep most of his weight off him. He smirked down at him. “You mean you don’t want to watch me golf in those trousers you love so much? I know you’ve packed them.”

 

Louis couldn’t help the offended grunt of surprise that escaped his mouth. “How do you _know_ I love them?” he squeaked out.

 

Harry giggled. “Boo bear, you think you’re so careful but you’re pretty obvious.”

 

Louis couldn’t help but remember what Eleanor had said to him that fateful day only a few weeks ago when he’d first wondered if maybe there was more to Harry’s sexuality than he was admitting.

 

“Am I then?” Louis asked archly.

 

“You are,” Harry said, dimples out in full force. “I’ve always loved it.”

 

 _I love you_ , Louis wanted to say, but he swallowed the words down.

 

“Come on,” Harry groaned, sliding towards the edge of the bed, his hand wrapping around Louis’ and tugging. “Tee time, baby.”

 

“I hate golf,” Louis griped.

 

“I’ll let you drive the cart,” Harry offered, with a sly grin in his direction. “Even though I know you’ll probably almost kill us.”

 

“No faith, no faith,” Louis grumbled into the pillow as Harry continued to tug him over to the side of the bed.

 

“The cart _and_ I’ll be in my golf trousers.”

 

“Fine,” Louis finally said, throwing the pillow down and sliding out of the bed. It wasn’t as good anymore without Harry in it. “But I want tea first. Tea before golf, _always_.”

 

\---

 

Louis sipped his tea as he sat in the cart, watching as Harry lined up his shot out on the green.

 

“Looking good, honey!” he yelled, just to make Harry jump, which he did, to Louis’ delight.

 

Harry shot over a look which Louis knew he _meant_ to look like Louis was in deep shit, but which Louis knew only meant that he’d get kisses and cuddles when Harry came back to the cart.

 

After Harry teed off, he came back to the cart with a semi-disgruntled expression on his face. “You distracted me,” he claimed. Louis barely let him settle in before he was tearing down the path, pressing insistently on the gas. Harry, who was nearly immune to Louis’ driving at this point, didn’t even look surprised as Louis nearly took out a bench and then another cart that was coming the other direction.

 

“You’re a menace,” Harry said with a sigh as Louis finally parked at the next hole. “An absolute fucking menace.”

 

Louis only grinned. He really wanted kisses. But they were definitely in public and that was probably off-limits.

 

Okay—it was _definitely_ off-limits. But kissing was most definitely the first thing Louis thought of when he watched Harry in those golf trousers. Kissing, and then a lot more, always ending in them panting and exhausted from several orgasms.

 

“These are great trousers,” Louis pointed out, reaching out and smoothing the material over Harry’s upper thigh. Harry bit his lip hard, and Louis wondered just how fast he could get them back to their cottage. Pretty fast, he thought, even though this golf cart wasn’t nearly up to his acceleration standards.

 

“Louis,” Harry said semi-sternly. Which unfortunately only made Louis want him more. That voice was dark and low and made him think of all kinds of kinky things, like him holding Louis down and making him take whatever Harry deigned to give him.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis said, “it’s just well. . .well you’re you. And apparently I’m not that subtle.”

 

“You’re about as subtle as a freight train,” Harry said with a bright smile. “So, come with me this time. Don’t just sit in the cart.”

 

“Don’t wanna.”

 

“You’re the worst caddy ever.”

 

Louis faux-gasped. “I’m not your _caddy_ , Styles. Never in a hundred thousand years.”

 

Harry reached over and intertwined their fingers together. “Please,” he said softly.

 

And really, Louis was just mush against that voice. Against most of Harry’s voices, actually. God forbid he ever discover that particular fact.

 

Harry slid out of the cart and went to his golf bag, selecting the driver he wanted. Louis ambled over to the tee behind Harry. “Lou,” Harry warned as he lined up his shot. “I swear to god, if you try to distract me again . . .”  


“What? You’ll punish me?” he asked in a hopeful voice completely laden with sexual innuendo.

 

But Harry just laughed, bright and free and easy, and Louis gave himself another mental pat on the back for that. He didn’t know how much this change in Harry came from him and what part came from the freedom in this trip, but he was so happy to see it. He loved Harry so much; what he wanted more anything was for him to just be happy, however that was achieved.

 

So he let Harry swing undistracted, though he unabashedly gazed at Harry’s bum as he twisted his body during the follow-through.

 

They really _were_ great trousers.

 

While they walked back to the cart, Louis said as much, and then added teasingly, “is that why you’re always trying to get me on the golf course? Any chance to ogle you and all that?”

 

Harry just rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve ever needed an excuse for that.”

 

“What!” Louis exclaimed loudly. “I definitely did not ogle you that much.” Okay, maybe he had, but he’d also believed he’d been a lot more careful about it, and apparently he hadn’t been at all. Whoops.

 

“It’s okay,” Harry said, resting a reassuring hand on his knee and then squeezing it gently. “I really like looking at you too.”

 

\---

 

Harry ended up with a fairly decent score, considering that Louis littered the back eight holes with absolutely filthy innuendo and more teasing than anyone could possibly deserve. But Harry took it so well, merely smiling, his grin a promise for later, and then made absolutely good on it by pushing Louis up against the shower wall, curling his huge hand around Louis’ hard dick and his own until Louis came, biting hard on Harry’s shoulder, shocking Harry into his own orgasm.

 

“That was good,” Louis panted into Harry’s skin. “We should do that every single morning.”  


“The golf part?” Harry asked hopefully, but Louis just groaned.

 

“I hate you,” Louis said, his voice unbearably fond because he was about two breaths away from confessing his eternal love.

 

But Harry just laughed. “Let’s get you cleaned up, boo. We gotta check out soon.”

 

Louis mumbled something else, that he himself didn’t even entirely recognize, but let Harry wash him and bundle him out of the shower.

 

They threw the clothes back in their bags and were on the road in only a few more minutes.

 

“What’s next?” Harry asked as he fiddled with the radio, having exhausted Louis’ playlist.

 

“Florence,” Louis said, pushing his aviators up his nose.

 

“What’s in Florence?”

 

Louis shot Harry a mischievous grin. “You’ll see.”

 

An hour and a half later, they pulled into a lot advertising dune buggy rides.

 

“What the hell is a dune buggy?” Harry asked, mystified.

 

“Prepare to be amazed, Harold,” Louis announced, even though he himself had never been on a dune buggy either and only had an idea what to expect from the youtube videos he’d watched before booking their sand dune tour.

 

They got out of the car and Harry shot Louis a dubious look as they crossed the sandy parking lot to the tiny shed that advertised the “ride of your life.”

 

“Maybe I already had mine,” Louis said, standing on his tiptoes so he could whisper into Harry’s ear.

 

“Maybe I want one of my own,” Harry whispered back, all bashful grin and hot eyes.

 

“Tonight,” Louis said before he could change his mind. “If you want.”

 

Harry’s eyes grew impossible hotter. “Yes. _Please_.”

 

Louis glanced up, afraid his erection was going to frighten away the employee that was now standing at the ticket window. “We have reservations,” he explained. “For Tomlinson.”

 

“Ah,” she said, with a knowing grin. “A private ride.”

 

“The best kind,” Louis couldn’t help answering with a smirk. “Right, Harold?”

 

\---

 

“I have sand _everywhere_ ,” Louis moaned as they staggered back to the Mercedes. “I have sand in places I didn’t know you could even _have_ sand.”

 

Harry giggled, as if he didn’t fucking have sand in his mouth and in his hair and in his eyes too. As if his own voice wasn’t hoarse from screeching. As if his cheeks weren’t as red and chapped as Louis’ own.

 

“Wait,” Louis froze in front of the Mercedes right as Harry put his hand on the door handle. “We can’t get in the car.”

 

“Lou, I’m hot and tired and really, _really_ sandy. I want to go to the hotel,” Harry whined.

 

“How do you even know the hotel is near here?” Louis asked, leaning against the car door and glancing down at his legs and feet, trying to figure out how he was going to get all the sand out of him before he got into the car.

 

Okay, maybe not _all_. How he was going to get _most_ of the sand out of his clothes before he got into the car.

 

“It’s not near here?” Harry sounded very disappointed.

 

“Calm down, Harold,” Louis said. “It’s only about an hour away.”

 

Harry grumbled under his breath and even though he was decidedly uncomfortable from all the sand chafing away in sensitive areas, he felt a little frisson of arousal at how much Harry wanted him.

 

Maybe, Louis realized, Harry wanted him just as much as Louis wanted Harry.

 

He glanced over to where Harry was trying to shake some of the sand out of his boots. He looked like a baby giraffe on unsteady legs, and Louis couldn’t help but be absolutely endeared.

 

“You really like me, don’t you,” Louis stated, rather than asked.

 

Harry shot him a look that practically screamed, _you’ve got to be fucking kidding me_. “You think?” Harry said. “I’ve only told you about ten thousand times in the last week.”

 

This was true. But Louis could be an idiot sometimes. For so long he’d loved Harry without a single hope of him ever returning the same feelings. Perhaps he’d just needed some time to re-orient himself to a universe where Harry was as crazy about him as he was about Harry.

 

Louis couldn’t help the bright smile that broke over his face. “I can be an idiot, sometimes,” he admitted, leaning down to shake the sand out of his vans before he even attempted to de-sand his jeans.

 

“Ah,” Harry said, sweetly, “but you’re my kind of idiot.”

 

Louis bent over and unrolled his cuffed jeans, grimacing as sand literally poured from them. “I guess that means I should take you on a real date, then.”

 

Harry’s dimples grew. “This wasn’t like a week-long date?”  


Louis shook his head, pulling his t-shirt over his head and not missing the way Harry’s eyes drank in every bit of his exposed chest. “You deserve a real date, babe.”

 

“Does a real date mean that I get _finally_ get fucked?” Harry huffed. “Because I’m done waiting.”

 

“So impatient,” Louis accused with a fond grin. “But yes. Absolutely yes.”

 

Harry threw his arms wide open and it struck Louis just how free and happy and _real_ Harry had been this week. He couldn’t help but hope that someday the rest of the world would get to meet this Harry. He was as bright as the sun. “Then what are we waiting for?” Harry smirked. “Let’s go.”

 

And suddenly, the thought of sand sprinkled through the Mercedes wasn’t nearly as horrifying as it had been.

 

\---

 

The Channel House was perched on a cliff just outside the tiny coast town of Depoe Bay.

 

“There’s no beach,” was the first thing Harry said when they got out of the car, the damp wind blowing against their faces.

 

“Nope, California boy,” Louis teased. “No beach. But I think you’ll like it anyway.”

 

This was the smallest hotel they were staying in, and after Louis suggested maybe it might be a better idea for Harry to wait outside while he got the keys, Harry nodded, eyes still trained on the waves crashing melodramatically against the rocky cliffs.

 

They had to climb four flights of stairs to their room, which was the room that Louis had been promised had the very best view. He and Harry might not to be officially dating— _yet—_ but Louis still wanted to give him the very best he could.

 

When Harry opened the door to their airy suite, all windows that faced the ocean, he let out a tiny gasp of disbelieving surprise. “This is . . .” he stuttered, turning to Louis with an incandescent smile and deep, deep dimples, “I can’t believe you’d do this for me.”

 

Louis let the door shut behind them, dropped the bags, and wrapped his arms around the younger boy, hugging him tightly against him.

 

It was either press his mouth literally against Harry’s sandy t-shirt, the grit scratching his lips, or confess everything he was feeling, including the big _l_ word that Louis was fairly certain Harry wasn’t ready to hear yet.

 

Someday, hopefully, but not today.

 

“Gonna take a shower,” Harry mumbled into the crown of Louis’ head. “Feel disgusting.”

 

“Want me with you?” Louis asked, a little bit hopefully.

 

But Harry gave him a bashful shake of his head. “You’ll distract me too much, Lou,” he admitted and Louis couldn’t help but agree with him. They’d never get any real cleaning done if they showered together.

 

Louis reached up on his tiptoes, and murmured right into Harry’s ear. “Just washing, okay? Wanna see how much you can come for me tonight.”

 

Harry’s breath went ragged and Louis gave himself a mental high five for finding and keeping someone who actually seemed to enjoy being kept right on the edge. He was going to make sure Harry’s first time was the most spectacularly amazing first time anyone had ever had.

 

\--

 

Louis was determined to make it a real date. They even dressed for dinner, Louis shrugging on a navy blazer over his lighter blue t-shirt, and glancing in the mirror to make sure it brought out his eyes like he’d hoped it would.

 

Harry only buttoned his shirt halfway up his chest and Louis had to roll his eyes. “You’re going to scandalize the locals, Harold,” he’d said, but secretly Louis loved it. He wanted to flick open those last two buttons, and slide his hands up Harry’s gorgeous chest, and trace the dark ink of his tattoos with his tongue.

 

The seafood restaurant was dark and smoky and they were sat way in the back, their table private enough that Louis felt perfectly safe reaching across the old gnarled wood surface and cradling one of Harry’s hands in his two smaller ones.

 

When they got back to Channel House, Louis had reached for Harry’s hand again, twining their fingers together and pulling him onto the attached deck. “There’s an outdoor tub,” Harry exclaimed gleefully.

 

“Totally private, too,” Louis said. “And look at this view.”

 

The sun had started to set over the water and maybe it wasn’t quite as spectacular as the view they’d had before their first kiss, but it was still pretty amazing.

 

Louis turned on the hot water tap and watched as the tub filled slowly. He nearly fell in when Harry came back out on the deck, completely naked.

 

“What?” Harry asked with a cute shy grin. “You said it was private. Nobody can see.”

 

Louis knew that if they got into the tub naked, there was no way for this evening to take a decidedly sexual turn. Though it was probably inevitable—Louis just hoped that he’d done enough to woo Harry so that he never thought Louis just wanted him for his body.

 

He _definitely_ wanted his body. There was absolutely no question about that. But Louis also loved Harry for his sweet, incredibly kind disposition. How he’d pick up discarded bottles of water from other band members during a rehearsal. How he would still text some of his old schoolmates back in Britain. How politely and respectfully he’d always treated Louis. How he’d never once asked Louis to do something he wouldn’t be willing to do for himself.

 

How he’d saved Louis when nobody else had even cared to give him the time of day.

 

Louis pulled his t-shirt over his head, his blazer long discarded, and slipped out of his thankfully now sand free Vans. “I don’t think I ever properly thanked you,” he finally said, the drooping sun reflecting across Harry’s pale skin, setting his body alight like a marble sculpture.

 

“Thanked me for what?”

 

“For hiring me. For taking me into your home.” Some things were hard for Louis to say. He’d said thank you to Harry a thousand different ways over the years, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually said the words. “For saving me.”

 

But Harry only smiled easily, as if the words were nice, but hardly life-changing. “Lou, I didn’t save you. I gave you a job. You saved yourself.”

 

Louis’ fingers gripped the edge of the tub as he sat down with a thump. As if he ever needed more evidence that Harry was the perfect man for him.

 

Harry’s fingers reached under his chin and tilted his face up gently. “You’re wonderful. You’ve always been wonderful,” Harry said in a hushed tone and leaned down to kiss him.

 

Their lips slid together hot and wet, and it only took a moment for the sweetness of the kiss to morph into something much fierier. Louis nibbled insistently on Harry’s bottom lip, cataloging every tiny moan of Harry’s at each tiny bite of pain. He finally pulled away, breathless and bare skin burning up even though the cold September ocean wind was blowing right through their little deck.

 

“Let’s get in,” Harry suggested, flipping the faucet off, and shooting Louis a very smug grin. “Before we end up wasting all this nice hot water.

 

There was just enough room for the two of them to fit comfortable at the back of the tub, their legs tangling together in the hot water, as they gazed at the final scraps of color and light in the sky.

 

“This is nice,” Harry said, squirming down a little further into the water so he could rest his head on Louis’ shoulder.

 

“You need to get a hot tub,” Louis said flippantly.

 

“I’ve actually been thinking about that,” Harry said slowly. “About getting a house. Not just an apartment.”

 

This was the very first Louis had heard of this plan and he couldn’t help but tense up a little. If Harry bought a house, then he’d end up even further away from Louis and his sad, lonely little apartment. It was bad enough now.

 

“If I did that,” Harry continued, words tumbling out of his mouth achingly slow, “would you want to move back in with me?”

 

That was _not_ what Louis had been expecting to hear.

 

“Um, yes.” There were probably a dozen different angles he should consider, but right now, surrounded by the stars and his boy, Louis couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. He just wanted to be with Harry.

 

“To clarify,” Harry said, with a dopey smile on his face. “I would mean _really_ moving in. Like sharing the house. Not just you living in a room, like before.”

 

But Louis wouldn’t be Louis if he didn’t voice the one screaming concern in his brain. “You don’t want your space? I thought when . . . _before_. . .”

 

But Harry, normally the slowest speaker on the planet, didn’t even wait to correct Louis’ assumption. “I never wanted you to move out, boo,” he said softly, “that wasn’t my idea. I hated that idea.”

 

“Then why?” Louis asked, somewhat mystified, though he was unfortunately beginning to understand a bit more of the pressure that Harry had been put under by his management team. He was literally going to kill Liam when they got back to LA.

 

“Management thought my ‘little crush’ was getting out of hand,” Harry admitted. “But it wasn’t just a crush. It’s _not_ just a crush.”

 

Louis’ hands gripped Harry’s biceps as he climbed onto top of him, his fingers sliding over soft, slick skin covering hard muscles. “Me either,” he admitted. Maybe they were more ready than he realized. But then Harry didn’t say anything else, and Louis swallowed his disappointment, leaning in to kiss Harry.

 

Harry tipped his head back, avoiding Louis’ lips. “Don’t distract me. I want you to promise you’ll go house hunting with me before the tour starts.”

 

“Of course,” Louis said.

 

“And not just in an official capacity. In a personal capacity.”

 

“I think we could come to some kind of an arrangement,” Louis said, sliding his hands up and threading his fingers through Harry’s damp curls. “Now stop talking. We’ve done enough talking today.”

 

They kissed until Louis’ knees, resting on the hard bottom of the tub, began to ache and his cock was screaming at him to get on with it. He finally let go of Harry’s mouth, and gently, insistently tugged Harry up with him.

 

“Let’s go to bed,” Louis said softly.

 

“I’m ready,” Harry said, sounding like he’d been ready for a long time.

 

Louis had been ready for two years. Maybe longer. Maybe as long as he’d known he liked boys, and not girls.

 

They half-heartedly toweled off, but when Harry lay down on the bed and Louis reached up to kiss him again, their skin still slid together, damp and hot. “So lovely,” Louis whispered into Harry’s skin, teeth nipping at one of Harry’s nipples, making him moan quietly in the back of his throat. Louis resolved to get him to stop being so quiet. He was going to make Harry fucking _scream_.

 

“Want you,” Harry panted out. “Get on with it.”

 

“Still impatient, I see,” Louis said with a maniacal gleam in his eye, trying to ignore his own aching erection that was clamoring for the same time table that Harry wanted.

 

“Waited so long,” Harry mumbled. “Waited for you.”

 

Louis’ lips cruised down Harry’s abs, leaving a daisy chain of love bites as he settled in between Harry’s legs. “You need to tell me how you’re feeling, love, okay?” Louis panted out, as he spread Harry out. “Good, bad, everything. I need to know. Promise me.”

 

Harry moaned loud and long as Louis licked a stripe up Harry’s straining cock. “Please, please,” he begged.

 

“Promise me,” Louis repeated more sternly this time.

 

“Promise,” Harry finally agreed as Louis reached down and circled his hole with one damp fingertip. Harry threw his head back against the pillow and bit down hard on his lip.

 

“More, more, more,” Harry chanted as Louis finally reached for the lube and slicked up his fingers, carefully, gently inserting one in shallowly.

 

“Gotta be careful,” Louis insisted. His own pulse seemed to thud with Harry’s insistent moans. “My beautiful baby. Gonna make it so good for you.”

 

“Already so good,” Harry wailed as Louis slid in another finger and thrust a little harder, a bit deeper.

 

Harry’s body clenched around Louis’ fingers and he had to bite down on his own lip, trying to use the pain to control himself a little better. Harry was so tight and hot; Louis was nearly dyingto just slide inside him. It would be absolutely mind-blowing. But he wanted it to be mind-blowing not just for him, but for Harry too.

 

“Another,” Harry begged mindlessly. “ _More_.”

 

Louis twisted his fingers and Harry yelped in pleasure as Louis brushed his prostate.

 

“You ready, baby,” Louis practically pleaded, so fired up from watching Harry fall apart underneath him that it would probably be a miracle if he lasted two minutes.

 

Louis finally slid his fingers out, satisfied that Harry would be okay. He gripped the base of his dick, hard, trying to get some kind of control over himself, as he watched Harry, all wide-blown eyes, bitten lips and flushed chest. He’d never looked more stunning.

 

Louis didn’t think he’d ever been more his.

 

“Now,” Harry whined mindlessly. “ _Now_. Fuck me _now_.”

 

Louis didn’t need to be told twice. He ripped open the condom packet, rolled it only quickly and then reached for the lube, generously slicking up his own cock, and lined up at Harry’s entrance, carefully nudging his head in. He heard Harry’s sharp intake of breath and paused, his muscles trembling at the control it took to not just slide home.

 

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s good,” Harry pleaded.

 

Harry let out a hysterical whine as Louis slowly slid, inch by inch, into his hot body.

 

By the time he was fully seated, they were both panting, breathless and Louis’ self-control was hanging by a single thread.

 

Harry wiggled a little, adjusting himself on Louis’ dick, and it took everything Louis had to not come right there. Harry was so hot, so tight. He hadn’t even moved, really, and this was already the hottest fuck he’d ever had.

 

Licking his lips, Harry glanced up at Louis, his heart in his eyes. “You can move,” he finally breathed out unsteadily.

 

Louis didn’t need any more prompting. He hitched Harry’s legs up and began to thrust inside him, searching desperately for Harry’s prostate because he didn’t think he could possibly last and he wanted to make it as good for Harry as he could. He wanted the pleasure to be burned into Harry, so he could never forget it, or Louis.

 

He knew the minute he found it because Harry let out an unearthly, practically inhuman scream, and it only took three more hard, pointed thrusts before Harry was shaking and creaming all over his abs.

 

Louis was only half a thrust behind, and his vision went white then black as the orgasm over took him.

 

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Louis panted as he practically collapsed on Harry, his own legs not wanting to hold him up anymore.

 

“Lou,” Harry slurred out, his voice gravely and low, full of pleasure. “Lou.”

 

Louis reached out and pushed a few stray curls out of Harry’s eyes. “Was that okay, darling?”  


“Best _ever_. Ever,” Harry babbled nonsensically. He whined as Louis pulled out, and didn’t stop until Louis had knotted the condom and thrown it on the floor, not even caring if it was gross, and had come back to Harry, cuddling him close.

 

“Like being the little spoon,” Harry mumbled as Louis tangled his legs with Harry’s.

 

“Like you being my little spoon,” Louis admitted. There was so much more he wanted to say. Three more words, to be precise. He’d hoped to imprint them on Harry’s skin, leave them in every kiss he gave him, but even though he’d tried so hard, it still didn’t feel like enough.

 

It didn’t feel like enough without the words themselves.

 

Louis kept them close to his chest, waiting until the moment that Harry’s breathing evened out and he slumped relaxed and boneless against him. Then he leaned in, even closer, until his nose was tickling with Harry’s flyway hairs, and softly, very quietly, whispered them.

 

“I love you.”

 

\---

 

The next morning, Louis woke up tucked around Harry much the same he had the very first morning of their trip, and he knew he never wanted to move and never wanted this trip to end.

 

He was so, so close to just saying fuck all, and telling Harry exactly that—and he might have, but then Harry turned over, a bright smile on his face and murmured, “Hey Lou, what else do you have planned for our trip?”

 

For a second, Louis thought it was a good question, thought that maybe Harry wanted to stay here too and never, ever leave.

 

But then Harry continued, with a slight grimace on his face. “I hate to do this, but would it be okay if we headed back to LA early? There’s a meeting I need to go to.”

 

Louis felt his heart sink in his chest, drowning in all that fucking optimistic hope that he’d been hoarding, one little bit at a time.

 

Harry must have seen it on his face, because he hesitated, expression growing concerned. “Boo,” he crooned, wrapping both arms tightly around Louis and burying his face deep in his neck. “I swear, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

 

But it wasn’t really okay. It wasn’t okay that while Louis wanted to never leave this precious beautiful cocoon they’d created, Harry couldn’t wait to leave. Louis didn’t want to assign some kind of deeper meaning, but he couldn’t seem to help it.

 

“It’s fine,” Louis finally mumbled into Harry’s bed head. “It’s really fine, Haz.”

 

“I won’t do it if it’s not fine with you,” Harry repeated. “I wouldn’t even dream of it, but this is important.”

 

Louis practically ran Harry’s life; he knew better than most people that sometimes things came up and they were far more important than a potentially life-changing road trip.

 

Louis vowed to himself as he slid reluctantly out of bed that if he and Harry didn’t work out and he was ever able to fall in love again, he was definitely not going to fall in love with another celebrity.

 

Harry was solicitous as they got ready to go and grabbed some continental breakfast from the tiny room that overlooked the ocean, giving him careful little touches, even making him tea just the way Louis liked it. And Louis heard Harry’s apology in every single brush of their hands, but even touching Harry couldn’t quite shake him out of the fog he was in.

 

What if when they went back to LA, everything went back to the way it had before? Yeah, Harry had talked about moving back in together, and he’d made it sound like it wouldn’t just be a convenience thing or a friend thing but a _relationship_ thing but then shouldn’t Harry have clarified that point? Louis wanted to—or he _had_ wanted to—but now he was too scared to discover what Harry’s reaction might be.

 

It didn’t surprise Louis at all when Harry requested his phone as soon as they climbed into the Mercedes.

 

The phone calls he made were very brief, and even though Louis was keeping a close watch on the navigation on his own phone, he couldn’t figure anything out from Harry’s somewhat cryptic side of the conversation. He also saw Harry typing out some emails and stupidly wished he could read them or maybe that he could dredge up the courage to actually _ask_ Harry what the fuck was going on.

 

They were an hour closer to Portland when Harry announced they’d be flying out tonight and they’d be meeting with management first thing in the morning. The sick feeling in Louis’ stomach grew. They wouldn’t even get one more night. He’d been so careless before, always thinking there’d be more and more and _more_ , but now there might not be. He might never get to watch Harry’s face again as he came and that hurt a lot more than Louis had ever dreamt it might.

 

“What about my car?” Louis asked, suddenly panicked that he’d have to live without Harry’s _gift_ too and that was just way too much for his fragile emotional ecosystem to handle.

 

“I’ve already arranged to have it shipped down to LA,” Harry said soothingly, resting a hand reassuringly on Louis’ knee. “It’ll be okay, boo. I promise.”

 

All Louis knew was that Harry kept making all these promises, and Louis just had to trust him to not screw him over in the end. Love was hard that way, because no matter how much Louis’ brain kept screaming at him that the very worst case scenario would happen, Louis trusted Harry anyway, because his heart wouldn’t let him do anything else.

 

“Okay,” was all he said back. “Okay.” And Harry’s hand tightened on his knee and Louis wanted to believe so much in the meaning of that gesture, as if Harry really, truly couldn’t bear to let him go.

 

All they had time to see of Portland was a few of the downtown buildings before they dropped the Mercedes off to be shipped and Voodoo Doughnuts because Harry had most definitely bribed the taxi driver to stop there on their way to the airport.

 

Louis grabbed the box from the driver and shoved half a maple bacon bar in his mouth. He was definitely going to eat his feelings, screw the hundreds of thousands of calories he was likely consuming. If Harry didn’t want to see him naked again, it wouldn’t much matter, would it?

 

“Louis,” Harry said reproachfully. “Can I have at least one doughnut?”

 

Louis glared over the distinctive pink box, but he couldn’t quite put the heat into it. “I don’t think you deserve a doughnut,” he finally said, picking fruit loops off one of the doughnuts and popping them in his mouth slowly and deliberately.

 

“You’re going to be sick if you eat that whole box,” Harry observed, clearly not very concerned.

 

“I thought hipsters were too cool to eat doughnuts. I mean, maybe if they’re made of kale and squash or beets or something.”

 

Harry wrinkled his nose as they headed across one of Portland’s bridges. “That sounds disgusting. And no, I’m not too cool to eat a doughnut, you just won’t give me one.”

 

Louis finally extended the box in Harry’s direction. “Have a doughnut then, cutie.”

 

“Are you done pouting then?”

 

Louis glared. “I was _not_ pouting. I do not _pout_.”

 

A giggle erupted out of Harry’s mouth as he selected an old-fashioned cake doughnut. What a surprise, Louis thought, the most _boring,_ and probably the healthiest, doughnut in the whole damn box. “Boo, you’ve practically raised pouting to an art form.”

 

“Have not,” he sniffed.

 

Harry took a bite and chewed, sliding towards Louis on the worn leather seat of the taxi. He wrapped one arm around Louis and dragged him even closer. “It’s okay. I like it.” He paused. “I just want us to be okay.”

 

Louis took a deep breath. “Did you mean what you said last night? About the house?”

 

Harry’s face softened. “Of course I meant it.”

 

Louis relaxed a little, the tight cord wrapped around his internal organs loosening slightly. “Then we’re okay.”

 

Dropping a single kiss on Louis’ head, Harry said, “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

 

 

\--

 

Their flight was uneventful and thankfully short because Louis’ stomach hurt from all the sugar he’d consumed. He hadn’t eaten the entire box, but he’d made a decent attempt. Harry had even snuck a second one when he hadn’t been looking.

 

Harry had called for a car to pick them up at LAX and they snuck out the back entrance, right into the town car with its tinted windows, nobody the wiser.

 

As they drove to their apartment complex, Louis couldn’t help the dread he felt at going back to his cold, lonely apartment. Even in the last week, he’d gotten unbearably used to having Harry there, warm and solid next to him.

 

He shouldn’t have worried. After crowding in the elevator with their luggage, Harry reached over and pressed the number that corresponded to his floor. Louis glanced over at him, questioningly, and Harry just shrugged. “I never wanted you to leave,” he said. “Don’t go back there.”

 

And suddenly Louis felt lighter than he had all day. Things weren’t going to go back just because they’d returned to LA. Harry had said they wouldn’t and he’d been honest. It wasn’t going to end up like Aidan—who’d been fantastic at making promises and utter shit at keeping them.

 

“Okay,” Louis said, as if it was really all that simple. As if they weren’t potentially headed into enemy territory with a thousand relationship-threatening obstacles in their path. As if in the end, caring about each other was all that really mattered.

 

And maybe, he thought rather optimistically, maybe that was actually really true and not some lip service provided by sappy romantic comedies and paperback novels.

 

\---

Louis got ready for bed first, taking a quick shower and brushing his teeth, climbing into Harry’s bed only wearing pants and maybe hoping a little that they might get to fool around. He’d asked Harry earlier in the car if he was sore at all, and Harry had only blushed and shook his head.

 

He watched as Harry puttered around the bedroom, stuffing laundry into the bin, re-arranging knick-knacks on the dresser, setting his alarm and then double checking it, and generally seeming to put off actually getting _into_ bed.

 

Finally, Louis felt duty bound to say something. “Harold, stop procrastinating and get in bed.”

 

Harry glanced up, all surprised green eyes in his pale face. He skirted around the edge of the bed, bashful expression on his face, and Louis wanted to eat him alive. “Want you,” he mumbled as he finally slid under the covers.

 

Given the go ahead, Louis wasted absolutely no time in climbing right on top of Harry, bending down to move his mouth against his with purpose.

 

“You wanna get off?” Louis asked breathlessly, shifting his hips restlessly. He’d been semi-hard since he’d felt Harry’s cool, smooth, expensive as fuck sheets and completely hard once Harry had started traipsing around the bedroom in only this tiny pair of black pants that revealed far more than they concealed.

 

“Yes, yes,” Harry pleaded a little brokenly, and Louis decided they were both close and it also made sense to do it this way, so much the same as the first time. He moved his hips faster, coaxing the orgasm out of Harry as their mouths moved together, passionate and sure. As Harry came, he threw his head back and moaned and Louis only had to fit his hand over his cock and give one, two hard pulls before he joined, the world constricting to just Harry.

 

\----

 

The meeting the next morning was way too fucking early, and Louis hadn’t even been sure that Harry wanted him to come, but when he showed up at the side of the bed, holding a mug of tea in his hand, a gentle smile on his face, Louis gave a groan and a half-hearted nod.

 

“Better shower, babe,” Harry said. “We need to get downtown.”

 

Harry’s management company owned offices in one of the sleek high-rises in downtown LA, and Louis tended to avoid going there if he could. He found them impersonal and overly glossy, a little bit like the people that kept trying to tell Harry what he could and couldn’t do.

 

Louis was still going to have that talk with Liam, but he’d take him out for a beer in West Hollywood, way out of Liam’s comfort zone, and crack him that way.

 

He was definitely surprised when he and Harry walked into the conference room holding the meeting, and the _entirety_ of Harry’s team was there, including his publicist and a representative from his label. Louis hesitantly sat down, making sure that his chair was an appropriate distance from Harry’s, even though Harry did his best to shift his own over. Louis whipped out his tablet, ready to take notes, but to his even greater surprise, nobody said a word. They just kept staring at Harry, as if whatever he had to say was suddenly more important than their own agenda, which in Louis’ two years working for Harry had _never_ happened. Even when Harry would call a meeting, wanting to discuss an idea or some promotion, the management team always made it very clear that Harry was on _their_ turf.

 

Not today.

 

Harry cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming at such short notice.”

 

“You didn’t give us much choice, Harry,” Liam said, a trifle reproachfully and all Louis could do was stare blankly at his tablet and think _what the hell is going on here_. Louis decided maybe it would be more productive to drink his tea, and raised it to his lips to take a drink.

 

“My mind’s made up,” Harry said firmly. “I said it in the email, but I’ll say it again. I don’t want to stay in the closet anymore. I want to come out. I hope everyone came with some sort of plan as to how we can make that happen.”

 

Louis spit his tea all over the gleaming glass table. It was a testament to how surprised he was that he didn’t even blink at the shower of droplets all over the spotless surface, and could only stare at Harry, heart beating far too loudly in his chest.

 

“Harry,” Louis hissed. “What the _hell_ is going on?”

 

“Louis, we’d like to know the _exact same thing_ ,” Henry Magee, one of old pompous windbags that Louis especially disliked, spoke up.

 

“I’ve made up my mind,” Harry repeated again, an iron resolve in his voice.

 

“Harry,” Louis begged under his breath. “ _Please_.”

 

He turned to Louis, a tiny smile playing across his gorgeous lips. “You didn’t realize that was why we came here?” he asked softly. “Why else would I suddenly need to see management?”

 

“I didn’t know, I didn’t _realize_ ,” Louis stammered. “I mean, you seemed _very_ sure only a week ago. Maybe we should talk about this before you do something you regret.”

 

Harry’s expression grew even softer. “I’m not ever going to regret this.”

 

“Well, for _me_ then, can we talk about this, like, _privately_?” Louis hissed, vaguely gesturing to the full complement of people who were watching and listening to his every word.

 

Louis didn’t even wait for Harry’s response, just grabbed his hand and dragged him back out into the hallway. Checking both directions to make sure they were at least _mostly_ alone, Louis exploded. “What the hell are you doing?” he choked out. “You don’t want to do this! You told me you didn’t want to do this!”  


Harry just kept smiling, calm and easy as Louis spewed words. “I didn’t,” he admitted readily, “but I wasn’t making an informed decision before. I’d liked you for a long time, _before_ , and it was hard, yeah because of how strong my feelings were, but I thought I knew what it would be like between us. I thought it was better to pick my career than to pick you, because I didn’t think a relationship could possibly make me as happy as music does. But I was wrong.”

 

“You were wrong,” Louis repeated, still somewhat incredulous.

 

“I was wrong. This last week, I realized I’d never been more wrong about anything in my life. Not being with you wasn’t worth it. I’ve never been happier than I was with you. And suddenly it didn’t make any sense to give this up. Once I decided, I couldn’t get here fast enough. I wanted to fix my mistake as soon as I knew I’d made it.”

 

“I wouldn’t. . .I wouldn’t have made you come out,” Louis stated, even though he still wanted to cringe at the words. He wouldn’t have. He would have stood by Harry regardless. He loved him that much.

 

“I know. I know you wouldn’t have.”

 

“Then, why?”  


“I don’t want to choose. I don’t want to hide. I want to be me—and I want you next to me.”

 

Louis tugged Harry into a fiercely tight hug. “I want you to be you, too. You’re gorgeous and amazing,” Louis whispered into his curls.

 

“I’ve already compromised so much,” Harry admitted, pulling back so he could look into Louis’ eyes. “I knew I’d only have to compromise more, if we were together. And I love you too much to do that.”

 

Louis’ jaw dropped. “Oh boo,” Harry laughed, “did you not think I heard you, the other night?”

 

“I mean, I mean, you were _asleep_!”

 

“As if I’d sleep through that!” Harry reached out and framed Louis’ face in his hands, caressing his jaw. “I love you. Today. Tomorrow. In ten years. I’ll never regret doing this. I should have done it so long ago. You’ll have to forgive me for being afraid.”

 

Louis sniffed. “I suppose I could be persuaded,” he said and Harry’s smile grew even wider. “And?” Harry prompted.

 

“And I love you too, Styles. After all, everyone loves you.” Louis leaned in and brushed his lips over Harry’s. “But not like I love you. Never like I love you."


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as promised, now that I'm revealed as the author, I can post the epilogue!
> 
> thanks as always to britta, who is the most amazing cheerleader and helped so much on this fic. it would never have gotten done without you.

Louis had known Harry’s plan was terribly flawed from the moment he’d rolled over in bed, smiled up at Louis, and confessed the idea he’d been considering for the last few weeks.

 

Of course, Louis was kind of notorious for terrible plans—or at least terrible plans that weren’t terrible in the end—so Louis guessed that might be why Harry believed it would work out.

 

It didn’t matter that Louis forcibly kidnapping and dragging his then-employer Harry on a road trip from LA to Portland had ended up not only solving all of Harry’s issues, but finally had given them both enough courage to be honest about how much they loved each other—it had _still_ started as a terrible idea. And terrible ideas, Louis insisted to Harry, rarely had non-terrible results.

 

Still, Harry was determined.

 

So that was why on maybe the most important day of Harry’s life—the _first_ day of his new life with Louis as an out and proud gay man—Harry was not focusing on preparing for his upcoming interview. Nope. Harry was playing matchmaker instead.

 

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Louis said to Harry as they sat in the back seat of the town car driving them to the television studio. “You could always change your mind.”

 

Harry shot Louis an incredulous glance. “After _all this_ , everything we’ve been through, you really believe I shouldn’t come out of the closet?”

 

“No, no, no,” Louis groaned. “Not that. _That_ you should definitely do. No cold feet allowed. But trying to introduce Niall and Zayn today? That you can forget about. That you actually _should_ forget about.”

 

Harry’s smile was smug. “I don’t think so. We’re disgustingly happy. Therefore, everyone we know should also be disgustingly happy.”

 

“Haz,” Louis said with a heavy sigh, more than a little worn down from months and weeks of preparation for Harry’s big day, “it just doesn’t work that way.”

 

“It should,” Harry insisted stubbornly.

 

Louis gave another big sigh. “Well, it doesn’t. I know you want Niall and Zayn to take one look at each other and fall madly in love but the chance of that happening is pretty much next to nothing.”

 

“You said Zayn’s gay. Niall’s bi. I know he is. He told me.” Harry sounded so proud. Louis really hated to burst his bubble.

 

Oh wait.

 

“Just because they have compatible sexualities doesn’t mean they’re going to magically fall in love,” Louis groaned. “If that was true, the whole heterosexual world would walk around constantly falling in love with each other. That would be incredibly inconvenient.”

 

“I guess.” Harry did not sound convinced. Louis felt something that might have been resignation. Maybe it was a good thing that on this crazy important day—the day that everything in Harry’s future potentially rested on—that he was thinking about something else. Maybe it was good that he couldn’t sit in the car and have a nervous breakdown over everything that might go wrong.

 

Like Louis was.

 

“Louis,” Harry said patiently—which that was _his_ tone of voice, thank you very much, Louis thought indignantly—“you’re not only brilliant, you’re in charge of my new image team. I know everything will be fine. Stop worrying.”

 

That was exactly the problem, though. If Louis had been anal retentive about Harry’s schedule and dry cleaning as his personal assistant, his meticulous planning and insistence on perfection as the head of Harry’s image team was a whole new level. He loved Harry so much, believed _so_ much in Harry and his talent and what he was capable of and it was a nightmare to think that a bungle today might derail everything that Harry had worked so hard for.

 

And Harry _deserved_ it, Louis thought loyally. Of course, he was also the least objective person possible, but that was okay. As far as Harry’s management was concerned, Louis was best person around to care for Harry’s image _because_ Louis cared about him so much.

 

It was a good fit and even though Louis had hated moving on from being Harry’s PA, he knew he had so much more impact now. And through it all, Harry had trusted him implicitly, never questioning, always believing that Louis, like always, had his best interests at heart.

 

Of course, the one time Harry had decided not to listen was the one day he needed to listen more than ever.

 

“It’s not live,” Louis reminded Harry again, for probably the five thousandth time. “So if something doesn’t come across quite right or you don’t answer a question the way you want, we can always re-record.”

 

“Of course we can. But I don’t want to. It needs to feel natural. Not staged.”

 

“Harry, it _is_ staged. Practically everything is staged.” Louis didn’t really like it either, but he liked the possibility that the interview could go radically sideways even less.

 

“Don’t remind me,” Harry said. “Let’s talk about Niall and Zayn instead.”

 

Louis really didn’t want to talk about Niall and Zayn. Zayn would probably kill him when he realized what Harry had done—and that Louis had helped him. Or at the very least he’d probably deliberately fudge his next tattoo.

 

Louis was going to end up with a fork instead of a trident when he next went into Zayn’s shop, he _knew_ it.

 

Harry would probably just laugh, giggling over Louis’ massive tattoo fail. He’d probably even try to argue it was still nautical—didn’t Louis remember the scene from _The Little Mermaid_ where Ariel had combed her hair with a fork?

 

“I’m going to end up with a fork,” Louis stated calmly. Like the world was about to explode into an apocalyptic disaster zone and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

 

“A fork?” Harry glanced over with a frown on his face. “What the fuck are you talking about, Lou?”

 

“Zayn hates blind dates.” Which was exactly why Harry hadn’t been able to introduce Zayn and Niall yet. Louis had forbidden him from manufacturing anything that even remotely smelled like a setup.

 

“This isn’t a blind date,” Harry argued reasonably. “He’s just coming along to support you. And Niall is there to support me. Perfectly legitimate.”

 

Next thing Harry would be arguing was that forks were perfectly legitimate tattoos to get. Louis started to sweat. “Aren’t we almost there? I don’t want to be late,” he said.

 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You built like a whole extra hour into our timetable, Lou. There’s pretty much no way we’ll be late. Plus, that hour will give Zayn and Niall time to get to know each other.”

 

Louis considered throwing himself out of the car. As far as he was concerned, road rash was highly preferable to a fork tattoo.

 

By the time they made it to the studio, Louis hadn’t been able to talk Harry out of his horrible matchmaking plan, but he did feel a little calmer. That was, until he walked into the dressing room Harry had been assigned and Niall was lounging on the couch and Zayn was eyeing him nervously from the other side of the room.

 

 

Zayn was a pretty laid back guy. So it took something extra special for him to practically pounce on Louis as soon as he walked in and hustle them all the way into the attached bathroom. “Lou,” he hissed under his breath, “what the hell is going on? Harry didn’t. . .Harry wouldn’t. . .”

 

Louis thought of the fork he would no doubt end up with tattooed across his torso and took a deep breath. “Jesus, Zayn, Niall’s just a friend. He’s here to support Harry. And you’re here to support me.”

 

Zayn shot him a suspicious look. “Is this the same Niall Harry is constantly talking up to me when you guys come into the studio?”

 

Unfortunately that _was_ true. Harry had perhaps overdone the praising Niall bit in the past, making Zayn a lot more paranoid than was comfortable. But they could recover. Louis just had to stay positive.

 

“Niall is a great guy,” Louis said, changing the subject.

 

“You know I hate a setup, Lou,” Zayn warned, and that was the problem. _Louis_ knew how much Zayn hated a setup. He hated the idea that he couldn’t get someone completely on his own, that he needed a bit of _help_ to do it. That was probably because Zayn was hot enough that he usually didn’t.

 

“I know, which is why this isn’t a setup.” _Lie, lie, lie_ , Louis thought bitterly. Why wasn’t Harry here to handle this?

 

Zayn crossed his arms over his chest. “You do know I’ve met him before, right?”

 

Louis’ heart practically stopped beating and there was more than a little annoyance coursing through him, all directed straight towards his lovable, adorable, meddling boyfriend. Harry had wanted to do this, so _Harry_ should have been here, fielding the Zayn interrogation.

 

“What do you mean?” Louis finally asked. “How could you have met him before?”

 

“Remember like six months ago, when you two both went MIA? Well, Niall couldn’t get ahold of either of you. He remembered that you had a friend with a tattoo shop and he called up, wondering if I knew anything.”

 

Louis should have felt more ashamed at how much he was fish-mouthing right now. But really, Harry had been working on this for _months_ and they’d already met? Oh, god, he was going to be so disappointed.

 

“And?” Louis pressed.

 

Zayn just shrugged. “He’s cute. Fun to hang out with.” Then his face darkened into a frown. “This _is_ a setup, isn’t it?”

 

“Harry wanted a friend here to support him, and well, he also has this really obsessive need to see everyone around him happy,” Louis said, scrambling a bit.

 

“So he thought Niall and I . . .” Zayn trailed off and instead of punching Louis in face for not stopping his over-enthusiastic matchmaker boyfriend, he leaned around Louis and peaked out the bathroom door.

 

“You think he’s cute, huh?” Louis said, finally beginning to understand just why Zayn was so vehement about this.

 

“Well, he _is_ ,” Zayn said, a touch too defensively. Louis couldn’t help but smirk. Zayn tried to be all aloof and removed from the baser stupidities everyone fell prey to, but in this case, he’d definitely exposed himself.

 

“You know,” Louis said casually as he possibly could with his heart racing about a hundred miles per hour, “Harry did say he was bi.”

 

Zayn rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

 

“Actually, I’m pretty awesome. At least Harry says so.”

 

“Harry thinks you radiate awesomeness out of your arse,” Zayn continued griping. “He thinks you’re like the perfect person, even when you’re being a twat.”

 

“Especially when I’m being a twat, actually,” Louis said with a grin.

 

“Fine, fine,” Zayn said, but his grumpy face was in definite danger of turning upside down. “I’ll talk to him. Besides, don’t you have like an image to manage and your boyfriend to out or something?”

 

Louis smiled. “Yes, I do.”

 

When he and Zayn walked back into the main dressing room, Harry and Niall were having a whispered conversation over by the sofa. He caught the words, “Zayn,” “definitely,” and “gay,” and Louis couldn’t help but smile a little smugly, even though this had all been Harry’s idea.

 

Okay, maybe that was _exactly_ why he was smiling. Zayn might complain and say that Harry was disgustingly in love with Louis, but Louis was just as disgustingly in love with Harry. The last six months had been better than anything he could have dreamt of and he had a feeling that everything after this would only get so, _so_ much better.

 

Louis couldn’t wait until every soul on the planet knew exactly who had put that incredibly smitten look on Harry’s face. Probably because he’d never been prouder of anything in his entire life.

 

Later, when he was old and gray, and people asked him what he’d accomplished in his life, Louis wanted to be able to say he’d loved someone as much as he was possibly able. He wanted Harry to never, ever doubt again how deeply he cared.

 

“Harold, it’s time to get ready.”

 

Harry looked up from where he was perched next to Niall and smiled wide at Louis, happiness radiating from every pore. Louis had been more than a little worried that as time ticked closer to the moment of truth, Harry would get nervous or scared, but all he looked was radiant.

 

“You don’t look nervous at all, Haz,” Niall complained, a little bit loudly. And obviously, Louis mentally added. “I don’t know why you needed me here. You’ve got Louis.”

 

“It’s the happiest day of my life,” Harry announced, looking like he believed it a hundred percent. “I want to share it with everyone.”

 

“What about me?” Zayn said, sauntering over and using what Louis fondly liked to call his Model Face. “I don’t count now?”

 

Louis watched with immense amusement as Niall swallowed hard, taking in the long, lean curve of Zayn’s body, outlined in torn black jeans and a loose black vest that did nothing to hide anything. A lot stronger men had fallen when Zayn brought it.

 

“Of course,” Niall offered with a tentative smile. “You definitely count.”

 

“Hear that, Louis, he _counts_ ,” Harry said excitedly, rushing over to wrap his long arms around Louis’ waist.

 

“You need to get ready for your interview now. Get focused,” Louis said with a fond amusement, as he gazed up at the excitement on Harry’s face.

 

“I’m plenty focused,” Harry said.

 

“Well, maybe not focus,” Louis corrected softly, “but at the very least, get you into hair and makeup and get you changed. I want you to look smoking hot, so everyone is insanely jealous of the boyfriend I’ve got.”

 

Harry beamed. “Are you saying I don’t look smoking hot all the time, Lou?”

 

Louis flushed and tried not to think about how Harry had looked this morning, kneeling between Louis’ legs, hair a sexy, curly halo around his head, his dark pink lips wrapped seductively around Louis’ cock.

 

 _Later_ , he told himself, _you can have it all again later_.

 

And he fully intended to. He and Harry already had “coming out party” plans—just the two of them. And they involved their brand new hot tub on their brand new deck, overlooking the Hollywood Hills, and a bottle of Harry's favorite bubbly. And sex. Lots and lots of sex.

 

For being practically a virgin when they finally figured out their feelings for each other, Harry had definitely made up for lost time. Louis intended to do even more making up tonight.

 

“You two are the worst,” Niall announced with a gagging noise.

 

“Definitely,” Zayn agreed.

 

Louis just smirked. “Come on love, let’s leave these two losers to their pathetic flirting.” He reached down and wrapped Harry’s big hand in his smaller one.

 

\---

 

When they walked back into the dressing room after hair and makeup and a ten minute snogging session in an out of the way closet that destroyed most of the work the nice people had put into making Harry look good, Niall and Zayn were sitting together on the couch. Zayn had on his I’m Very Serious and Very Good Looking but Also Very Relaxed and Chill face on.

  
Niall looked a trifle manic. Maybe because of how much sexual tension had suddenly bloomed in the room. Louis couldn’t help but chuckle a little because there was pretty much nobody on earth that could hold out on Zayn when he was exerting so much effort.

 

Harry smiled, glancing knowingly in Louis’ direction. Louis couldn’t help but be happy for his best friend. Zayn had been alone for a long time, pretty much since he followed Louis to LA. Niall would be good for him. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it first, that Harry had had to be the one to tell him.

 

Louis made a pointed reminder to himself to tell Harry later, when they were cuddled up in their hot tub, hot skin sliding against hotter skin, how good and sweet and wonderful he was. Louis said it all the time, but as far as was concerned, Harry should hear it all the time.

 

Ten minutes later, the runner came to the dressing room, knocking softly but pointedly on the door, to tell them that it was time.

 

Louis looked at Harry, searched his face, tried to see if there was any hesitation written there, any last minute fear or trepidation about what he was about to do. There wasn’t any and Louis breathed one last sigh of relief.

 

“It’ll be brilliant, boo” Harry said, leaning in to give Louis one last reassuring kiss—as if Louis was the one who needed to be reassured. “Don’t worry.”

 

\--

 

Of course, the minute the interview began, all Louis’ worries were completely justified because Harry went right off script.

 

Not that Louis had ever really had hope of Harry _staying_ on a script, but they’d worked so hard to make it seem natural, more an extension of who Harry was, than really a script at all, that Louis had begun to expect that he might stick to it.

 

But Harry was Harry, delightfully quixotic, and as he sat on Ellen DeGeneres’ couch and beamed at her, one queer mentor-to-be to another queer mentor-that-already was, he skidded right off the page.

 

“So, Harry, why the sudden need for honesty?”

 

There were so many answers Harry could have given. They’d rehearsed about half a dozen, all true, all completely legitimate. But Harry’s face grew soft and fond and he looked right over at where he knew Louis was and gave him a slightly apologetic nod before he spoke.

 

“There’s so many reasons, really. A hundred reasons,” Harry said slowly, charmingly. But still a little hesitantly, like he really didn’t know that there weren’t millions of people out there, eating up every word he said—and Louis thought he probably _didn’t_ believe there were. Delightfully down to earth, Harry was.

 

“Mostly,” Harry continued, “honesty is important to me. Setting an example for others, making sure they know the way they feel inside is not only okay, it’s _good_. But mostly,” Harry said, and he gave a little self-deprecating laugh, “I’m terribly, terribly in love.”

 

Ellen’s bright smile grew even brighter, the edges curling conspiratorially. As if this was their big secret. Louis wanted to moan wretchedly about how Harry was _supposed to stick to the script._ Even if this was cute as hell and he was pretty much completely mush inside from the way Harry looked when he talked about being so in love.

 

“Tell me about him,” Ellen said, leaning forward, as if she couldn’t wait to hear more. And although Louis was practically crying at all the damn time that had gone into the prep for this interview, he was right there with her.

 

“He’s. . .” Harry stuttered and grinned brightly, “I can’t even really explain how lovely he is. Loyal and kind and funny. Always makes me laugh, even on the worst day. And he’s been with me through everything, and stuck by my side. He was also pretty much the best personal assistant I could ever have. I’ve still not forgiven him for accepting the promotion.” Harry pulled the cutest pouty face, and Louis melted.

 

“Louis, your personal assistant.” Ellen had a bit of nerve to look surprised.

 

“Well,” Harry explained bashfully, “he _was_ my PA, yeah.”

 

Ellen looked out to the audience and Louis had one bone-chilling moment of panic where he realized exactly what she was going to suggest. If he was quicker, he might have run, might have gotten away, but Zayn was right behind him and latched onto his arm with his strong hands. “No way,” Zayn muttered, “not after you set me up.”

 

“Let’s meet him, why don’t we?” Ellen said through the roaring in Louis’ ears. He was going to be on the bloody television. In front of millions.

 

Louis didn’t remember walking over to the distinctive couch only that suddenly he was there, and he was looking down at Harry. Who was currently grinning like he’d just got everything he ever wanted.

 

Well, _almost_ everything. Because Harry was on his feet, and he was dipping Louis and they were kissing and the roars of the audience were almost drowning out the roar in his own head.

 

Louis would later realize that Harry had never had _any_ intention of going by the script, that he’d always wanted to come out with Louis by his side. And when Louis would argue that _nobody_ wanted to see him, he wasn’t the famous one after all, Harry would merely shush him and say it was _his_ coming out, he could come out however he wanted, even with his boyfriend on the couch next to him.

 

Louis would also later realize that Zayn and Niall had been out on several dates by the time Harry “set” them up.

 

Bastards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my tumblr! come chat!](bethaboolou.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [my pic post which includes pictures of many of the places Harry and Louis visited](http://bethaboolou.tumblr.com/post/112767633875/somewhere-only-we-know-by-bethaboo-41-029-words)


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